Dear ghost,
If you talk to me, I might spill everything that has grown in me. It might seep out of me and colour another. When that happens, I want to gather all the tinge that escaped from me. Gather and press it against me so it stays. So it doesn't leave a trail. So it doesn't taint the colour. She says, " there is no bad colour, there is only bad combination." This colour that left me, must not blend in with yours. It must stay.
Yours