The loss of my love

Yellow is the color that infected her skin 
The reminder of her terminal sickness 
Its daunting, yellow, the last thing I saw before this eternal darkness 

Yellow sounds like screaming so loudly you feel like throwing up 
Or crying at midnight in a quiet yet crowded house 
It’s the routine I’ve been stuck in since-

Yellow smells like old people, ever so often too young 
Their rotting skin, naturally, coming to its inevitable end 
Reminds me of her clothes, when I came home 
Realizing they would never smell like her again 

Yellow tastes like the bile that rose in my throat 
Threatening to spill with just a single memory 
The memory of her gloss coating her lips 
The same one which were unrighteously infected 

Yellow feels like my last moments beside her 
The special way of ending our day 
Breaking through the glass smothering what could be our last interaction 
My brain tries to suffocate me now that I know the end 

Yellow is notoriously deceptive 
Like hospitals trying to mask the misery which bleeds through the building 
It’s daunting portraits, sunflowers, scrubs, sheets, drapes-
It won't make you happier, and it surely didn't save her

--Bella M., 9th-12th Grade