he called me the most beautiful
shade of gray, a questioning elegance
that held a mystery he couldn’t resist.
I saw him as the dark nighttime air,
swallowing and suffocating whatever
light was offered. and I told myself
that nothing good could come from
this, from being swallowed whole.
but his hands were so gentle
and his voice soothing that I lost
myself in the night’s embrace.

black is the absorption of all colors.
I found the harder I looked, the more
shades I could dissect. he was an
intoxicating red that coarse through
your veins like a virus. he had deep
blues and purples that you had to be
careful while swimming in, do not
submerge yourself too deeply into
those waters or you yourself would lose
your way. he had colors collected by a
lifetime of aspirations and disappointments
and rejected love and affections.
you could see the cracks in the colors
where he fell too short, before he
was stained by circumstances and
obligations. when he was a white
slate, barely turning gray,
vulnerable and new.