I sketch a picture. I color it with blood.
I color it with the ambition of an ancient god, the spicy scent of a Mexican dinner.
I color it with undercooked meat served so that juice squeezes out when I impale it on my fork.
I color it with simplicity, a color stripped down to the barest essentials.
I color it with a ribbon perfectly placed atop a gift that is expected (Today is Christmas, after all), and yet completely surprises me at the same time.
I color it with the sun as it prepares to vanish from sight below the silhouette of the tree line.
I color it with failure, the letters in the words “GAME OVER.”