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Take my skin take my sin
Take me from within
Let you sip it and spin

Water doesn't celebrate my existence
But doesn't mourn my absence
It wraps round the crevices on my body
Holding me, almost consuming me
It could kill me but only if I let it

So for now, its blue body will only taste me.

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Sun
Flowers
Bees
Lemons
Pollen

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After dead leaves fall and scatter upon chilled ground
It's the blanket of powder that creates a wonderland
Mugs brimmed with steaming coffee
And it's the cream that pours in
The skies that are coated with cotton balls
And it's the road that is obscured by fog
The light at the end of the tunnel
It's the milk at the base of your bowl.
~ Ashley Hamilton

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Those eyes.

Dark, with glimmering excitement and brilliant trouble.

That’s the color you see when you accidentally cause the laughter with your antics.

How a cider heated on the cast iron stove feels as it slips down your throat.

That’s the color you see. The color that fills you with warmth, just as the cider does.

Those eyes.

I see them when I look to my side and see their tenderness gazing down to me.

The color of my thoughts as I plan ahead.

They’re a tender hug and a kiss that is broken by laughter.

The color of possibility.

Those eyes.

Dark, the way the rich turned soil appears as you kneel in the garden.

That’s the color of the brownies baked fresh just to make you smile.

When you’re surprised by a treat and a single touch on your back as to not startle you.

That’s the color you see as you look up.

Those eyes.

The thick, dark amber of the syrup from the tall tree with the most beautiful leaves.

That’s the color that peeks out of the perfect face surrounded by the crinkles of laughter.

Dark, sweet, caramelized apples with brown sugar and crumble cooling out of the oven.

That’s the color you see when you guilty look up after sneaking a bite.

Those eyes are so much more than just brown.

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It's the color of the fast car every kid dreams of having.

The color of the last rose on the dying bush.

The color of the fire truck that just went rushing past\.

It's the color people think of when they think of love.

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It’s the light filtering through the trees on a summer day.

It’s the envy that runs through me when my brother does better than me.

It’s the grass that tickles our bare feet as we run around like fools.

It’s the the bottle that you have grown to hate.

It’s her eyes when she tells you she loves you.

It’s the moss that covers the graves of your friends.

It’s your face when you eat too much on Thanksgiving.

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The lines on the road that divide me from you
are the same shade as my breakfast
A large cracked shell sits on my counter
oozing the remnants of what it used to contain
it drips onto the rug below
I just watch it
for some reason, I don't stop it

the rug is the color of a newborn sunflower
the day outside is grey and rainy
I can hear the drops on my car roof
the water runs up my windshield crowding my view
as I speed down the road I can see the bright sign
it shows me the speed
I know I am exceeding

soon the line that separates you from me no longer does
the light that fills my head is bright and warm
like the old static TV, my dad used to have in my living room
then
all I see is yellow

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On the edge
of the indigo ocean
a great heron
silhouetted against
a cerulean sky

The shade of distant hills
and the crooner's eyes

A subtle velvet
like the ribbon
that denotes the best

A creature who weathers winter
with neon parrots
in a tropical lagoon

And carries in his
royal bearing
a sapphire shade of sadness.