Love is not colorful.
Love is black and white.
My tears are blue,
the blood I bleed is red,
my bruises purple,
my envy green.
All these feelings
are technicolor,
demanded to be seen;
felt.
Love sends your mind into a
black out.
Love is just passion fading from
white to grey.
Love is just a blank page;
the light from heaven.
Living is colorful.
Loving is death.