He is the perfect pink.
He is the golden tangerine.
He is beauty where I thought all was lost.

He is different,
He is truth,
He is the wisdom that moves.

Now he is gone.
The sunsets took him away from me.
They showed me things I did not know.
They showed me his real truths.
That his truths were lies.

Lies? To me?
But the pink Peonies?
Lies.. to me?
But you were such a lovely color of tangerine.