Taking a look back I noticed the color of her lips as she spoke harshly:

a soft rose-petal pink.

Blue Jays flew out of her eyes at me, narrowly missing my gaze, and I caught the sound of a light purple breath escaping quietly.

Light spits of fire grew orange under her neck, spreading quickly, and her ethereal glow darkened into a sticky brown haze not long after I decided to leave.

The colors all mixed together disgustingly.

Looking ahead of me there was no color.

There were shapes and hues and tints, but nothing as vibrant as the women I had left behind.

-D.R Breshears


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