The grey had found a home in the white, it consumed ruthlessly until it was dark and dull, like the sky had turned ashy. But it was beautiful, it was the color of death yet it felt like the beginning of all we never had, it was grey fog on our work of art but it was breathtaking.
Bronze, auburn and heather have their share of beauty but mauve is a breath of fresh air. The air tasted sharp the day grey took over, like droplets of water, the color of sea foam were dispensed somewhere inside. The air looked like the color of broken bones but it was stunning, like ivory had met stone.
Raven and ink have their share of hiding our scars but slate is the color of invincibility. The ground was soft the day grey took over, like its burden was already gone, like broken promises and unmet dreams had sailed away like dandelion seeds. The ground still looked shaken but it was bracing, like obsidian had met tangerine.