[Poetry] Color Psychology [Written By Chasity Pryor]



Windows open wide, the breeze combs through my hair

and travels up my thin shirt.

The night begins to settle into my quaint room,

casting a faint grayish blue hue against the walls.

A melodramatic hum of wings being rubbed together

fill the space around me; the sound creates a calm

amongst my chaotic thoughts.

From the confines of my twin bed, I observe

a time-lapse of automobiles beginning to fill the

space between the white lines and the street lights

flicker on.

They change the tranquil hue of my sanctuary to that

of a dirty orange glow and I remember the fire from

the pit two summers ago. A few friends and I threw a party

on the beach and spewed empty promises at each other.

Always, we will be friends.

Always, we will keep in touch.

                                  We haven’t spoken since.

Night has fallen and the room is pitch black,

all of the secrets spill out of my mind and

splatter on the wall.

I scurry to turn on the table lamp

before they consume me.

The dark is no place for a wanderer.

Looking out of the window, I watch

dark objects move within the

white glow of the streetlights as

the sun takes its final bow.

And I wonder, unlike in the reality

when the sky becomes a post to a feed,

when the pigment is too intense for somber eyes,

why there wasn’t any pink in the horizon?

                         Was I not deserving of the show?

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