Still Ice Blue

“I’m so sorry.” She says. “Whatever I did I apologize.”

Her green eyes shine with tears against her soft copper curls. For some reason it feels yellow this time. Like she is not just luring me into a trap of purple defensiveness. Like she wants to understand why I couldn’t go burgundy. How long has it been now? Three years to the day, I think.

“I just felt so alone.” I say. “More alone than when you weren’t there.”

“I’m so sorry.” She says again, and it feels good and orange.

Then I wake up.

Suggested Music Pairing: Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word with Sir Elton John