Red were the roses, the ones I left on your casket,
Orange were the leaves, the ones in your tree,
Yellow were the bruises, the ones that covered you head-to-toe,
Green were the stains, the ones left on the hems of your jeans,
Blue were your lips, the day you were found in your noose,
Indigo was the night sky, that night that you died,
Violet was that bruise, the one you wore around your neck

Do you need another poem?
haven’t all my words been sown

I stitched verses together  
to  get  her
forget    her

I cannot

She is at my seams
my lungs scream

silence

I provide it
in brief moments of emptiness

I have no mistress
no muse at my disposal
just memories that act like chains upon my heart

but this is art

No! this is my heart
sprawled across the page

every page

I wage war with myself
just so I can speak

I keep nothing back
you’ve seen the white and the black
a contrast that happens so fast
I almost look complete

I could never accept defeat
not even death could steal my promises

I promised this

.