Colour my Soulhome, my body needs rainbows

Image source: freepik

Draw on my body.
circle slowly, s l o w l y
around,
Paint me, paint me all over,
I've been dull and bleak;
colour the dry landscapes
of my pale skin
with everything,

blue like the ring you slipped on my finger, said it'll be alright,
blue like truth,
like numbness,
blue like how i'm sprawling everywhere,
blue, the colour of your jeans, when i rested my head on your lap, eyes closed so tight i could see explosions in the back of my head,

blue skies, empty,
empty like i am.

red
like bloody sunsets shaking me,
waking me up, when i decided to sleep just for the sake of not staying awake and witnessing a million things in you, and me, breaking and dissolving, and me praying that i never be woken up.
red
like the lipstick that looked hideous when i rubbed it on my scabby lips,

white,
like the horizons in winter, and how you said not many days ago,
how i had started to look like
a crying winter,
white,
the rajnigandha flowers you always brought to me, and i always leapt on you, tingling sensations of joy bursting in me, and i always kept the flowers within my reach, within me, till they drooped,

you don't bring flowers anymore.

pink
like the set of baby clothes,
never worn, dusty smells in the closet,
tender like an infant's death.
pink,
the pastel colour i see in hugs, tight, tight hugs, when my body is flying, alive, wanted,
pink,
the dark colour of my smell you said you once saw, a mystic perfume, and you inhaled me, while i sat beside you, a flutter in my chest.

yellow,
like that daffodil you put in my hair, which withered, like me,
yellow
like how pretty the sun looked, when i saw it's reflection in your eyes,
yellow,
the colour of the first dress i had worn as a baby, sewed by my mother herself.

green,
like my superficial veins, trembling, as if my skin were a cage.
maybe it is a cage.
green,
like my green bathrobe, how i grew nauseous when i saw my scabs, my undesirable body,
green,
like the green crown of grass i had playfully put on your head, when good times were everywhere,

orange,
like the holy books, the sacredness where i could never reach the filaments of myself,
orange
like the orange peels i buried my nose into,
at the funeral, hoping the bittersweet thing would soothe my chaotic senses.

no, nothing does.

purple,
purple like all the bruises on my body,
waiting to heal.
second by second, a new skin creeps on me quietly,
i've been struggling with my old one,

purple like the dress i had worn for you,
my hair braided with tiny purple verbenas,
it seems a lifetime ago, when i had my grace, when i had a skin i could fit into,

purple
like the cosmos i had painted when i had art in me, my witchy hands stroking the canvas,
purple like the feeling i feel
when i touch you, heavenly being,
almost unearthly.

so paint me, love. draw on my skin, sprinkle oceans of glitter, throw all your paints on me,
blast all colours on my old skin,
my old body,
where my soul still has a home,
the only home it can have in this lifetime,
"the" only home,
a
"home".

colour my skin;
it has been through too much,
too much for a lifetime,
colour my skin,
it needs to feel wanted.

_______________
Ramona Singh