I never had those red fights caused by small stuff.
Neither did I experience those orange walks by the sea.
I never woke up to yellow sunrise next to anyone.
Not even a green stroll around one's favorite garden.
I wish I had known how to turn one's blues during late night calls.
And turn them to indigo fantasies at once.
And make one's violet eyes brighter.

I only know of a sea of grey.
A bit of white and an ocean of black.
I feel comfort in my own spot of darkness.
Fearing any inch of light will cause a mess.
There were two or three who tried to pull me out,
But I refused for I did not understand.
For now I shall stay where I am,
And feel the make-believe comfort I have made.