Pink is there in the way you brush your hands across her neck, that somber color spreading across her skin like a storm. It’s there in the middle of his pouty lips, a place you’d be familiar with only because of all the kisses.
Pink, a color that brings to mind so many things. A color that makes a statement on it own. A color capable of mixing with anything and yet maintaining it’s identity. Each shade of pink is so unique, so different, so unlike any other. It holds all the strength of red but along with the humbleness of white, a combination so potent it creates the most wondrous effect on the beholder.
A color, ever since the beginning of time, that has been a symbol for women. For femininity. It is delicate in the way it is seen in the petals of a newly bloomed cherry blossom, a flower so pale and so distinct. A mark of the arrival of spring. And yet it also leaves an impression behind, like that of a cherry stain against cream.
It is there in the color of a flamingo, burning bright during their flight. In the color of a carnation or a rose, when a lover professes love or when one says goodbye.
Pink when paired with white screams innocence and youth...