Benicia Love Poem: I Used To Be A Blank Wall

I Used To Be A Blank Wall by anonymous

I used to be a blank wall.
Not even blank, just a wall.
People, ideas. All bounced off me.
But then, amidst chaos and confusion, I became a canvas.
A canvas for any artist, anyone, to come along and leave a mark.
Every person left something. Every person was a new color.
Some came in flashes of orange, emerald or burgundy.
Others were primary colors, who showed up in every picture that made the mural of me.
My mother is blue.
She is my favorite pair of jeans.
The navy sweatshirt I dig out of the laundry basket every cold morning.
The lines on every piece of paper that guide me to laying out every thought and feeling I find the words to describe.
My father is red.
He is a fire extinguisher. Barely acknowledged until all other options have been nixed and its weight is the only thing left to strike down an escape route.
The poisoned apple. Delicious looking but fatal when bitten.
My best friend is yellow.
With her, every outing is highlighted in my memory with a smile.
Her friendliness is only matched by the aloha states flower, a yellow hibiscus. A symbol of good times to come.
But the artist who painted in love, painted in white.
White.
When you squint into the sun and feel its rays and your eyes can only make out a color near to blindness,
There is the bright white he painted.
A mystery that only unravels once you get closer like the thick layers of white fog an ocean breathes out.
The whites of my eyes that grow larger with the wonder that I've found someone like him.
He is a blank page. The kind whose stark white encourages the expression of possibilities originated from my deepest dreams.
I used to be a blank wall.
I used to be a blank canvas.
Now, I am an artwork.
Capable of inducing others to express and feel because I have been painted with the colors of love.