Do you see the reflection of my face?

It is red. Simply red.

I care not to change it, it can be red

If red is what it would like to be.



Unreadable red—the stereo type

Of love and of passion.

I am sick of such redness—

This red I am not.



Can you see my fight inside?

It is orange, simply orange.

It is fiery and weird—

The orange place I have not explored



Orange, orange is my indecision

Orange peels in my place

In my burlap stomach

Orange my guilt.



Can you see the light on my chest?

It is yellow, simply yellow.

Yellow like sun in January

When grey passes.



Joyous yellow, where marigolds play

Where milk is churned to hope

And where smiles wade,

I roll in yellow.



Can you see the rage in my eyes?

It is green, simply green.

Green like emerald glens

And raggy earth.



Seductive green, my flute

My dancing color

In gentle waving grass

My green bed lies.



Can you see my shallow cheek?

It is blue, simply blue.

Blue like frost bitten morning,

All a’ sparkle



Patient blue, the color by which

My skin is velvet.

Blue interrupting my eyes—

Inconsiderate blue.



Do you see my sagging arms?

They are purple, simply purple.

Purple like complacence.

My purple love.



Pristine purple, holding on

To all it tends

My confidence, sweet,

Dearest purple.