Letters scribbled down on
Paper as the pen engraves its mark
Even when it leaves the paper
The colours remain
The shapes linger
You tore the clouds from
Their places in the sky
While the purples, blues
And pinks bled
Like red lipstick marks on tissue
Stamps on new bought
Postcards that stick where
They are stuck by flying through
Time, countries and air that
Smell like metal and lemons
But the colours couldn’t show
What thunder and dirt
Showed up under the
Doorstep when you
Decided to walk away
And no matter how many daisies
I watered and loved and caressed,
My veins will forever be painted with
Rotting petals
Discoloured leaves
Like old sunsets
And falling telephone wires
Those do not leave
Even when they are left
I will shine the broken glass
And wash the buried fire
To me you’re still home.