Who am I?

So I have deleted all my previous posts, not that many people will notice as there was only ever one person who looked at this blog and that was my ever supportive brother.

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The truth is that I am struggling to figure out what and who I am at the moment. There are times when I'm alone that I notice the little things I don't do. And there are a lot of little things that I don't do.

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I cannot think of how to put my thoughts into words I want to ask for help but I don't know what I need help with or how to ask. I only know that sometimes the words come of their own volition and they make little to no sense to anyone other that me.

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Today the words came and I would like to share them with you, an anonymous reader.

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The Boy Of Colours

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In the morning I looked at the sky and the colours inspired my voice, but rain began to fall and the colours ran.

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Everything becomes grey when the rain falls.

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All colour is lost to me, all colour except the colour of the boy. He walks the path of my heart and it is the boy of colours who inspires my heart even when the colours fade and my voice grows quiet.

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Words fail me now, I am quiet. I don't know what to say, what to write and the only music I hear is conquered by separation.

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My canvas is roughened and tautened. My nature is to nurture disappointment and the relegation of joy to memories is often done without realisation.

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And then my edges are smoothed, words whispered only to me gentle my soul and I remember why I breath.

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I breath because life is a story and mine is still being written.

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Those whispered words retain colour in the rain as the boy of colours walks the light. I gave him life and with his whispered words and smile of sun he returns the gift, giving life to me.

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In the colour I nurture love and I know that when I am ready my words will come and my voice will sound.

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And I love him truly, my little boy of colours.