For years I dreamed in black and white
then you appeared
flaming red
burning quickly and furiously

I couldn't take my eyes off of you
you were the only color I knew.

But fire was foreign to me
its warmth so intense
I should have known better
than to stick my hand in.

You should have told me.

The feeling of your fire on my hands
the sight of my burned skin
brought tears to my eyes
and I begged for my shades of black and white

but colors are sights we cannot unsee
feelings we cannot forget
words we cannot keep quiet.

I learned not to look too long at you
for the spots in my vision that followed
I learned not to mistake hellfire
for heaven's white lights
I have discovered other colors since
none of which have yet blinded me
quite like you.

My skin has healed from your fire
my nerves are far less sensitive.
The rain washed away
my last sentiments for you
and in its wake
a rainbow waits.