A claypot,
brittle and empty.
Cold and weary.

For I,
was that claypot.
Brittle and empty,
Cold and weary.

My exanimate body,
quiet like the winter
but piercing like the howling wind.

You picked me up,
and painted me with colours.
Colours,
that represented your love.

Blue for freedom,
Yellow for loyalty,
Brown for humility.
And Red - your love.

You embraced me,
and kissed me,
despite the coldness of my touch.
You painted me with your love.
I,
believed that I was now something.

And..
You dropped me.