Rainbow

The end is hard, it's so hard, that the diamonds my body produces bleeds out of me without permission. I hold my head up high, hoping gravity will pull them in and keep those precious jewels within me.

But in the end I decide it's best that I let them sparkle in the world, for all to admire their beauties, because each radiant light bouncing off me, is a streak into my past.

Red, the childish fervor with which I lounged at love.
Orange, the sun-kissed furry friend who's birth filled the nook of my arm.
Yellow, the sizzling ocean days spent buried in your arms.
Green the lush mountains where you first discovered me.
Blue, the days spent pondering what-if, what-if?
Indigo the night sky where shooting stars temporarily granted my wish.
Purple, the strangled end of two lives dividing into parts.

The streaks blend and move, changing as I evolve in the world. Sometimes, like now, they move too fast and become white nothingness. Yet other times, like before, they slow down, and allow me to experience its beauty.

The end is hard, it's not the deletion of memories or numbers, instead, it's the beginning of storing, of maintaining. Whatever I believe it to have been, will make it whatever it will be. So whilst the end is hard, a new rainbow will form, even if it's only after the rain has slashed against the sun.