Grey

I remember scoffing when he said grey was his favourite color and telling how much I hate the fact that all his shirts were grey. Yet, when he wore the blue one I chose for him finally, I somehow couldn't forget the lovely way the salt and pepper of his hair used to match his shirts before.

Between us, everything stayed grey.

He played his melodies with his hands of smoke as I kept searching for passion in the ashes of my expectations. Asphalt shined under our feet as we took long walks, arguing about future. Rain-clouds always rumbled from the sky while I sat beside him and pondered whether we are allowed to hold hands like one of those couples or not. His 'I don't give a damn about you' and 'It's raining. You have umbrella, right?' always kept me wondering.

Between us, everything stayed grey.
Everything.
Smoke, ashes, asphalt, rain-clouds, his mind, his shirts...

As indecisive as grey.
Neither here nor there.
Neither black nor white.

I was always a 'Red' person- passionate, intense, tempestuous. Now every time I rub my thumb over my cheeks, a bit of a color comes off.

It scares me watching my grey thumb, because I have always hated grey.