The Colour Series – Blue

It is the colour of the air on a cold morning. The icicles on a tree after Christmas. It is the colour of the ripped jeans of an ex – lover, that you’re holding on to for dear life.
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Diary of Bruises

I had finally gotten myself to believe that ‘new beginnings’ were for real. Walking over to my new room, with a suitcase of dreams and just over fifty dollars in my pocket, I was ready to begin with a clean slate in the place that I would call ‘home’ for the next three years. The fact that I had a chance at making real friends and experiencing all that college had to offer was reassurance enough.
Until, I saw you. I saw you sitting among the others, chugging at what seemed to be like your fifth bottle. The cheering crowd could not see how you had to empty yourself to take it all in.

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Words, Whiskey and a Shovel

(1/10)  8:13 PM  Please tell me this is all a joke. It has to be. I am sorry. Let me fix this, I love you.
I heard your voice for the first time. In that same café. You were calling out for your favourite Irish coffee. And, oh dear, it was the sweetest voice I had heard in quite some time. It sounded like my favourite song, my mother’s voice, birds chirping in the meadows. I knew I was never going to settle for silence again.

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