Insecurity

My insecurity has colour.

It is yellow.

I wipe the sides of my mouth,

After the burning sensation has stopped.

My breathing goes back to normal.

 

Then out comes more.

 

The panting begins, and I slouch to the floor,

With the coldness entering me.

Tears descend

Burning my reddish face,

Such a contrast to the yellow.

 

My insecurity has colour.

It is yellow.

Yellow enough to make me despise daffodils,

So when he surprised me with flowers,

I was sick to my stomach – literally.

 

He didn’t understand what he had done,

How could I explain,

That my insecurity has colour?

 

It is yellow.

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