Monochrome

By Martyna Florek, aged 13

Monochrome. Oh God, monochrome.

He wasn’t monochrome.

She was black and white.

He was colourful.

She was incomplete.

He was happy.

She was trapped in her own head.

He was her sunshine.

He didn’t know her name.

She would sneak looks at him at school.

He would look at her whilst biting his lip.

She would blush.

His hair was dyed red.

Hers was a dull brown colour.

He was called Michael.

She was called Arabella.

He wore bracelets.

She wore oversized flannels.

He wore combat boots.

She wore beat-up black vans.

He had an eyebrow piercing.

She had her ears pierced.

He had a group of best friends.

So did she.

He noticed her.

She didn’t know.

He would catch her looking.

She would lower her head and rush out of his view.

He had cherry red lips.

She had chapped, dry lips.

He had a powder white complexion.

She had tan skin.

He wore band shirts.

She listened to bands, full volume.

He played video games.

She wrote stories.

He wrote songs.

She stayed at home.

He played his guitar.

On the bus to school

He said, “Hi.”

She asked him what he was doing.

He said, “Trying to spark something,

I don’t know what yet,

But it’s something.”

She said, “Ok, but I don’t

Think I’m the person

You should be sparking

Something with.

I’m boring.”

He told her she wasn’t boring to him

And stepped off the bus

And went through the school gates

To meet with his friends.

The next day

He dyed his hair

Black with a blue streak.

It looked good,

But not as fiery as his red hair.

He was turning monochrome.

They talked on the bus.

Then they started talking

Outside of school.

In their homes.

At an old park.

They had movie nights.

Michael wanted to take her out.

He thought she didn’t like him.

But, she did.

Oh, so much.

She thought he didn’t like her.

But, he did.

Oh, so much.

He asked her to go to dinner.

They did.

He kissed her.

She kissed back.

He drove her home.

She was happy.

He was happy.

The black slug inside her was

Disappearing.

He noticed a difference

In her.

She was more happy.

She was in love with him.

He was in love with her.

A few months later

Michael asked her

To be his girlfriend.

She said yes.

He could be the cure

That she’s looking for.

They spent more time together.

She was slowly getting better.

He wrote her songs on his guitar

And performed to her.

She would have tears streaming down her face.

She was more in love with him than ever.

Years later,

He wanted to ask the question.

He did.

He took her on a picnic to a beach.

They sat on the roof of his car

And ate Macca’s

And talked.

Then Michael took her hand

And helped her off the car.

“Bella, will you marry me?”

She was complete.