Ch. 2 Black For Me and You

Will reaches for my hand.

He squeezes it tightly

but I don't feel it

over the cast.

It's bright purple.

One color

amidst all this black.

I hate black.

I had gone out of the house that morning

wearing a pretty, white dress,

with a pretty, white sash,

and pretty, white sandals.

Will looked at me like I was crazy

and asked me what i was doing.

"We shouldn't wear black.

I hate black."

"Riley, it's a funeral."

"She loved black.

We can't wear black

to her funeral."

She'd be happy

to see me wear black.

We can't wear black

to her funeral.

But he refused to drive me

unless I changed.

So I decided not to go.

But he bribed me

with a free latte

because he knows

I can't turn down

a latte.

Especially a free one.

But the entire ride there

I kept reminding him

how much

I

hate

black.

Author's Note

There might be a few errors but sometimes I put them there for poetic reasons. Please let me know if you see anything wrong though just in case it was an honest mistake. And please comment! I'd really like to know if I should keep writing this.

Reviews

[SpeedyHobbit Armstrong]

This poem definitely made me sad- I can empathize, having lost a friend who loved black (and purple) myself. Then again, it also seemed a fitting tribute- but definitely wasn't easy.