I can still see the sickly yellow of your bathroom I'd go there to be alone—I think the architect knew that it was a perfect place for storing my feelings because yellow looks like the absence of you. It didn't have windows, but still looked like sunshine and like those daylight lamps trying to be spring was supposed to fix your winter, make you feel fine while being just a substitute for the original thing. Since then, yellow is the loneliest colour it's the jagged memory of a promise not kept how you vowed to stay with me for years to come while I sat on tiles of daffodils and wept.
Rike is from Germany, studying English. Words are quite literally her first love. Writing in English makes her feel brave and comfortable.
Litehouse 