Shades they could never see

You could glow like twilight’s ocean, gentle, endless, calm, and true, but to them, it was just another hue— not the one they wanted to drown in. You learned to fold your brightness small, to whisper instead of sing, thinking maybe quiet colors would finally make them stay. They said you were beautiful— in that detached, passing way, like one admires a painting but never wants to buy. You gave them skies, and they craved sunsets. You offered calm waters, they wanted fire instead. And still, you stayed— hoping maybe someday they’d learn to see the oceans inside your soft blue heart. But love doesn’t change its palette, no matter how much you bleed into the canvas, and sometimes the masterpiece hangs unseen in the dark. So now you let your color breathe again, untamed, unchosen, but free— because blue was never meant to beg for pink to see.