a year in technicolor
what am i?
i have seven months
to define seventeen years
in 650 words or less.
no problem;
i have plenty of time.
it's only june, after all.
beautiful souls surround me
united over four years of differences
my heart, saturated with love,
aches when I shuffle through fifty polaroids
of a sun-soaked august
that will one day be coated with dust.
closer than ever,
only to be torn apart next june.
we are art
my heart
rejects a clean start.
so what is my purpose?
the applications demand one.
i turn my eyes inward
on my last october 3rd
of my very last year.
last.
past.
painfully fast.
sand through my fingers
hail through trees
moments are faster
and deeper than ever.
my starriest nights blind me
my loudest laughs reverberate
i am seized by a sudden awareness
of the state of my world.
my state.
my fate.
time will not wait.
anyway, who am i?
an artist, of course.
an artist of life.
a connoisseur of the canvas.
a monet of moments.
i define my existence
in 650 colorful words
then hit submit.
submit.
maybe i'm enough to admit
or maybe i'm completely unfit.
i entertain, then dismiss, the option to quit.
a year of questions.
of answers.
of newness.
of reflection.
of the sweetest music
and the sourest taste.
a long list of lasts
in vivid technicolor
and guess what?
there's more to come.