Yellow is the saddest color, she said.
Some think it is blue, but it is not.
Blue is the common choice for the color of sad, the popular one, but yellow is much sadder than blue.
Yellow blinds you with hurt, a gentle deadly glare, almost musical, that gets in and behind your eyes;
it is the palsied hum in your head that never ever stops, a low insistent droning;
it is the slow death of bees, the shadows of their agony and grace;
the screams at the bottom of a childhood,
the hidden tonsils of a well, those too are yellow;
it is the season of suicidal leaves, consigning themselves to the cradle of Wind, which becomes their fated pallbearer.
Yellow infects the necessary dark; it is by far the saddest moon,
the softest of last kisses.