I often wonder, what colors I am painted. Beneath the mask I’ve conjured, of course. I suspect if one peels away my peachy flesh and with it the rose colored cheeks, a pallet of grays and blues and other such hues would rest humbly. I imagine the contours of my cheeks would be plum, and the shade beneath my eyes would be nearly black, the space in which my smile would falsely lay would be a clash of navy blue and blood, blood red. These colors, to me, paint a beautiful picture. Wouldn’t you agree?