My life is a collection of hues brilliant and inert partly painted with pain and blood, a hodgepodge of wine and dirt.

Fold in the deepest oceans with a splash of goodbye tears mix with hot burning coals of a 'please come back' yearning that's lasted all these years.

I'll never be the freshly pinched cheeks of babies like the color of a rose, or a bright good morning sunshine, no, I'm neither of those.

I'm more like a starless night or hot desert sand beneath your feet, I'm not a crescendo I'm more like slight discomfort on repeat.