to the man in white | Teen Ink

to the man in white

May 14, 2022
By saralychee SILVER, Sacramento, California
saralychee SILVER, Sacramento, California
9 articles 0 photos 1 comment

the white room

the white smothered them

in its cold, antiseptic breath that seeped into their own

the sheet's stark whiteness bore witness to a crime scene 

one where someone had fled

not wanting to see the yellow of hollowed cheeks

the whiteness that glazes eyes,

now worms and writhes

across chests crimsoned in curious cacophonies,

ventilator rasps unfurl

pleas

hands pressed to knees 

heaves into sleeves

oh my, why, all for my

Yéyé

 

observations from a red-handed room

subject designation- shame-faced coward from the man in white

subject dictation- she denies, denies, denies so she lies, lies, lies

subject denunciation- callously cueing crumpling and crying as if she lay dying

 

the grey room, my room

when the night swallowed you whole

I wonder did you feel it, did the cold scorch your insides too?

13 going on 30 but I knew

reprises from the wicked night's clutches are far and few

the howling wind could not hide

shaking silhouettes spurning haunting guises, glances of goodbyes

 

the yellow-ing room

I lie beneath frozen folds where my fingers unfurl

yellowing furrows of correspondence

crayons, colors cycled from me- curious child to you, childlike curiosity

in pink, dancing pandas, my favorite vibe at five 

in blue, sliver of smiles shared at nine

the littlest princess beside your knight

kingdom come and crowned in now glossy eyes 

in these colorless phases, storms bluster inside, blister insides

 

the blue room

when i saw you for the first time

you still looked like you

but something in my father’s voice

tore tissues to shriveled clouds

dotted in disarrays amongst blueing pews 

a week after Christmas

sadness soaked through

the littlest queen, crestfallen without a crown, clutching her black gown

returns to the white room

 

here I am again

bearing entrance to the white room in black

three bows forward but one turn back

selfish staggering to my sword, blue imbued 

white-tainted shields have waned, weakening after weeks

I envision splashes of color to enliven these white canvases

strong as I pledge

to the man in white

to the stain I wore on my sleeve

I’m sorry if I could not be strong earlier

know, I will always love you


The author's comments:

I wrote this piece to commemorate the liveliness and just exuberance my late grandpa had for life. He was truly a young soul and one that shared his love for fairytales with me at every opportunity. His passing made me question and slowly reject the romanticized vision of life I had in my head but with time, I began to embrace fairytales again and bring new matured color to my writing. One of the biggest themes that are present throughout this piece is color as I wanted to capture the different stages and intensity of my emotions. 


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