She was tired of black and white.
Nothing had meaning; there was no feeling in anything she did.
She must’ve been hopelessly dull to the bright pinks and sultry reds around her.
Her world was exact: straight lines, solid lines, lines that wouldn’t budge for something different, abstract.
In fact, black and white made grey, the color of the lifeless walls she blended into.
Then she was saved.
Saved by an artist who saw the true colors of her being, from her thoughts to her emotions.
He drew her picture with curves and color, wavy lines and straight alike.
He used Tickle Me Pink when he thought of her laugh and the greenest of greens when he pictured her brilliant eyes.
She thought herself a plain white canvas.
He found her to be a work of art, his Mona Lisa.
The she understood, sometimes love is simply black and white.