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Indigo

Must We Separate?

Plant Life at Eden Hall campus, Chatham University’s Eden Hall. Photo by Olivia Rose

The leaves are soaked by the sun.

We are open.

I forgot what words tasted like.

What are rainbows?

Are they our imagination

Are the colors our lives?

If they are our lives,

Then I must be indigo.

I thought back to childhood.

Couldn’t remember what colors ever made a difference.

Red was too deep of a passion,

Green too dedicated to greed,

And if any other color matched these feelings,

The feeling of the median,

A division of harmony and lust.

Never exactly blue or purple.

In between my madness and love,

Must Indigo be my battlefield

Or demise. 

Read next: Not Poetic
Olivia Rose
Olivia Rose

Hey everyone! Current MFA student in Pittsburgh, hoping to drink Chamomile tea and share my life. There’s enough to be said by someone whose black, queer, and a woman. 

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Indigo
Read Next
Not Poetic