She tried the fiery reds
like love, hearts
and the end of cigarettes
Like the sun rising on a brand new day
But she's tried too much
and they've become a cold, sad grey
Like an elephant
who remembers acquaintances from the past
revisiting their graves
like an old iconoclast
She once tried all of the blues
Tight ripped jeans and salty rivers
for a lover, their eyes the same hue
She even tried to swim out into the ocean spray
But she's tried too much
and they've become a bleak, empty grey
Like the clouds of a storm
on the Fourth of July
******* the joy from
explosions in the sky
She confided at times in the colors brown
The pitch of her own eyes, of sand
and her old hometown
She tried to sculpt her feelings in clay
But she's tried too much
and they've become a dry, calloused grey
Like stones of a castle
built to keep others out
She's locked away in her tower
with a head full of doubt
I hear that, these days, she dabbles in black
Like emptiness, nightmares,
and crooked witch hats
Not unlike the swan in the ballet
But at least this is one color
that will never turn grey