I think my colors are the most saturated
where they ought to be pastel.

where the light shades of periwinkle
fade to subtle nuances of grey
slices of quiet nights that appear
monochromatic
where the hues should be muted and soft
I do not know how to slow down.

before all this, however
before primaries colided into secondaries
I was a canvas of
negative space
where I craved vibrant tertiaries
I was neutral and base and
still
I was still all over.

but you
you don't have those quiet spaces
you are bright and bold and bubbling over with composition
there is a thunderous color theory in your joints
you are crackling with chroma
bursting with brushstrokes at the bones.

where I was fading
you were flourescent
you were dyes and direction
to my dull delirium
I was a shade off-kilter
a too-soft tint
and you
you were tantalizing

there was contrast
in the way your hips moved against mine
yet your hand on my neck that Saturday night
felt so complementary
and I began to wonder if maybe ideas of clashing
or analogous colors
were just abstract artists and impressionists
grasping at straws.

you set
my color wheel in motion