you say to me as we’re walking through the lively streets of downtown.

The smell of freshly baked cookies from a nearby bakery
wafts through the air, dancing around my face before entering my nostrils.

The light of a nearby store illuminates your face,
a purple glow cast upon the hollows of your cheeks.
You always thought purple was a unique color,
the way it was a mix between the blue sky
and the red flames of the sun always peaked your interest.

Regardless of how fond you are of the color purple
your life remained in black and white. You were a
pessimist at your best.

As reality struck once again, I gazed into a local store.
In the window hung neon-dyed
daisies at the peak of their lives. If no one
bought them soon, they would die

without anyone to cherish them. The glass window
was the only thing separating the beautiful flowers from us,
like a barricade that left me wanting more. When I suggest we
go inside, you look at me with disbelief.

Your lips move, telling me that the glass showcase was
meant to keep us wondering about what was inside--
but once we opened the door, we would be
disappointed. We knew that behind the beautiful blooming
flowers would be a less adequate bouquet, full of rotting leaves,
awaiting death. He was right,

the most valued features serve as a mask,
always displayed on the--
outside.