White

White.

It's the crispness of a just ironed shirt
     and the smell of the starch that protects it.

It's the sound of wood chimes in the breeze.

It's the color of everything pure.
Everything new.
Everything exposed.

It's you
  protecting me
     while I
        protect myself.

It's this flimsy attempt to
     expose my shame.

It's the disappointment of failure
     and the failure of feeling cherished.
It's me failing you.

It's the transparancy of a heart....

     ....broken....

          ....and emptied.

It is everything
     and it is nothing.

It is scary.

It is my shaking hands
     my trembling legs
          my leaden feet.

It is the life which lays on my sleeve,
     and the guilt that seems to lay with it.

It's the color of my face without...
     ...and the fear of everything with.



White.

It's the promise of tomorrow.
     It's the threat of today.
          It's the escape from yesterday.

It's everything pure.
And everything tarnished.

It's the hurt.
     Hurt I caused.
          Hurt you feel.
Hurt undeserved
     by someone so good.

It's the silence and how
     excrutiatingly loud
          it is.

It's selfless.
It's harsh.
It's empty and loaded.

It's you.
          And it's me.

It's the drama you might conclude from this,
and the harshness with which you might judge me.

It's the knowledge that you will read this
today.
Regardless.
And the fact that you know why it's white
     and nobody else does.

....

It's innocence and innocence lost.

It's the dread
   I feel
     knowing that
       newness
            is no more.

And it's the hope
that the white
     that has been tarnished by white
will still shine as bright
as you were once sure it could.