Truths 

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I am orange 

I know I am orange because when I close my eyes, I see fried eggs on blue plates

and remember weeks that smelled like french toast

I know I am orange because when Robyn bleached my hair, it burned yellow and orange and I liked it better that way 

I am orange because the sun tells me so when she whispers freckles of gold into the follicles on the hair on my arms 

because oranges are my favorite fruit, 

and because sometimes, when I get carried away, and peels stack on the counter, the bridge of my nose starts to sweat 

because when I fall, my knees bleed orange, not red

I am orange because I am not purple, 

nor blue, 

because purple and blue are nights that taste like burning wood

I know this because my sister is purple and my dad is blue with some gray in it

I know this because I don't know what color my mom is 

I know I am orange because my name tastes like it and smells like it too

I am orange because I wrote it to be true 

and because nothing rhymes with orange.