‘Don’t wear black!’ she scolded.
‘It drains your energy!’
I knew she’d say that.
It also makes you look slimmer
and doesn’t show the dirt.
‘Orange is what you need.’
I cringed and pulled a face
as though I’d bitten orange peel
and squirted acid on my face and hands.
It’s a brazen colour, vulgar, loud,
common and insistent.
‘Look at me! Look at me!’
It makes me nauseous, makes me want
to run, escape, find air.
She must have read my mind.
‘Try red, then.’ That’s more like it!
Sexy hue of lust, wine, kisses,
fire-coals, life and blood.
It also goes with black.
First published in Reach