If you count all the ways a sunset appears,

You’d be counting forever.

The endless sky wraps his arms around me like a cocoon,

Envelops me in sugar sweet colors that look like the inside of my dreams.

Every night there is a new color stretched across the sky,

And it waits to be named by the wolf’s echoes…

I once knew someone who only thought in numbers,

while I think in colors and poetry-

I wonder how it feels to be trapped in a world full of measurements.

The sunsets mock them with their vividness, and they laugh in the face of equations.

I used to try to think of calculations to figure out when you’d come back,

But I was never good with numbers.

They always came out as:

“if you waited approximately 11 days, 9 hours, 17 minutes and 3 seconds, what color will the

sunrise be the day he comes back?”

Or

“The sunset the night we shared our first secrets together was a light orange faded into an ochre

yellow, and we shared about 36 and a half secrets, combined. Calculate the number of secrets

you have shared in the past two years up until the last maroon sunset you saw together.”

It never made sense when I counted all the ways back to you.

I was never good at the kind of equations that help to find out how long it will take to have the empty spaces in between my fingers be filled with yours again-

But I remember the colors of your eyes,

How the light and dark blues swam in unison, until you were filled with fury,

Then the dark hue of the ocean fought for vengeance.

I don’t recall the number of times I’ve longed to hold your hand,

But I remember the hue of your smile.

The light blush creeping into your cheeks,

When you smirk, my mind fills with the brightest, happiest yellow you’ve ever seen.

Maybe that’s why it’s my preferred color.