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A younger version of me wore black to disappear. It meant I could cower in the dark, all the while shouting hey look at me, I’m edgy and ironic. The depression and self loathing could hide in plain sight because all anyone would see was the veneer I’d cultivated. It was only fashion, all angsty adolescent drama. Always so careful to keep it surface level, don’t let anything out, don’t let anything in. And then I found you, and you found me back. So I opened up to let you in and everything changed. I couldn’t be less edgy now. I’m soft; tender and open and raw and desperate to stay that way.
You shine in every color, you always have. Red and orange, yellow and green, indigo and violet, shooting from your fingertips, settling behind your eyes, dancing together in your chest so they combine into the pure white light that pours from you. It’s no secret, everyone who has met you has felt that warmth on their skin, They take a little of your light with them, better for having known you.
I wasn’t ready back then. So the black absorbed your light, soaking it in. It seeped into my open wounds until I couldn’t help but shine too. You joked about boys and you wore rainbows on your t-shirt, and you leaned into me, biting and grabbing, even on camera. And I hid, holding the colors tight in my belly. They kept me warm when it got cold in the dark. You stood beside me when I took a step into daylight and lit up the night when I’d retreat again. You told me I was brave. You said, it doesn’t matter, I see you.
Now, I see me too. When you shrink and tremble and lose your words, I step ahead, holding all that shine for just a moment so you can breathe. When you work and work, so afraid to disappoint, and it's all too much, I wrap you up and let the colors rest because sometimes there is safety in a dark place.
These days, my armour is shredded, bits and pieces fused to my skin, wrapped up in familiar black so no one but you will see the remnants of my hiding. You strip me down and run your fingers along the edges and everywhere you touch, I shine through. You pour your colors over me, warm like a blanket and I hold on to them just long enough for you to remember that you are a body. You are more than the spirit you share, and you deserve to feel every earthly thing. You can rest, you can lose control, you can feel the colors one at a time. I’ll hold the rest for you the way you do for me. I’ll pull them in to the darkest night until starlight rains down. There we’ll be, each one of us made brighter by the other, you and me, just as beautiful as we are.