Vividian

She was golden;

in the kiss of the gentle, warm rays of sun that were peaking through half-shut blinds

caressing her curves like foggy mountains at sunrise

on a perfect Spring day.

She was emerald;

alone - as she held her breathe once again on the hopes that he would decide that

"this time, I'll stay, and make good of my promise"

to be yours only.

She was blue;

a sad song - an ode to the lonely and heartbroken fools who bit the hand that fed another

leaving dimples that would surely be noticed

and certainly, fade.

And when he'd gone,

she was opaque; but this falsified her solidity and amplified an illusion of strength

that was a protective shell for her frailty

at so much as the sound of his name.

"I don't need him,"

she would lie, and though to others, she was vague

To him, she was translucent; a clear sky on a Summer day.

She was crystal;

thin glass that filled slowly with blushed wine when he touched her

and whispered "this time, I promise,

I won't walk away."

But tomorrow, she'll be golden and wake up in the morning as he heads home

to water and sow the thrillingly greener garden

to which he had vowed his life, to the very last day.