They think that I’m red
The kind of crimson that comes from loud mouths and smart remarks
The scarlet of sarcasm that stems from quick wit
From quips that taste like fire and sound like flame
A cherry red from cheeky comments
From knowing when to hold your tongue but not doing so
Because why would you?
And an alizarin that smolders and simmers and lashes out with claws like
Silver, because some say I’m silver too
Grey with a glitter like moonlight shivering through leaves
Shimmering off snake scales that slither impishly through the underbrush
The silver of mischievous smirks and roguish defiance
The argent of the not-quite-trustworthy, of the less-than-honorable
The shifting grey from the opaque translucency of something
There that’s not-yet-seen

They think I’m these and often they’re right
Because sometimes I’m red and others I’m silver
And sometimes I’m both or neither or neither and both at once
But mostly, I’m a little of this and a bit of that
And a lot of something else that can’t be named
Something that can’t be stuck in a crayon box before blue and after orange
Or crammed somewhere between the shadows and the casting
I’m something less than transparent and more than visible
I’m not this color or that or all of them or none
Because people are more than that and less as well
And sometimes its not that easy and just that simple
Because we can be concealed and seen as
Something like the color silver
Because we can be exposed and mistaken for
Something like the color red