Cloud was a canvas. He wasn't blank, mind you — anything but, actually.
Cloud was the texture of flowers against skin (green stems, purple petals), was the feeling of a breeze ruffling hair (blue wind), was the sound of far-off laughter (yellow laughter), was the scent of sweat and blood (gray sweat, red blood), was death and loss and sorrow and memory and redemption painted in words and pain and tears and tiny flecks of happiness and joy and smiles.
Cloud's canvas wasn't dark or light or blank, but he liked to think it was, because it was easier that way.
A/N - So sorry about this being late. I just kinda...forgot...yesterday. T.T;;; Anyway, next one on its way! XD