A shell on the beach
shines with brilliance against the sand
it holds all the colors of the world
in every beautiful band on its surface
and inside, it echoes the rolling ocean
whose song its always lived beside
But the rain batters the innocent coast
and cruel winds scramble its peace,
boasting its power over that
brilliant little shell
Its surface dulls in the storm
and its smooth colorful form becomes distorted with cracks
all its hues, it wishes were subdued
it wishes it could hide under the cold sand forever
the ocean is still
I think I may get it
Why we remember our favorite memories
In vivid shades of colors we dream
How someone may think of the great green grass the day they met love
The ruby red lipstick of their mother who was sent above
The soft silver hues of a rainy day when they were young
A overbearing blue from a stained glass window depicting a guardian that, once, they were sure of
Even if I dont, i'd still like to understand.
The way the heat of a raging orange sun feels to someone else
How this black shadow would cast on someone else
What my dirt brown eyes convey to someone else
Does this bleeding pink heart feel for someone else?
In the distance
a breeze is blowing
to the flowers
pale and glowing.
She clutches each one
close to her beating heart.
Lovely lilacs they are.
Lovely to the color chart.
She glazes afar
with a thought of bliss to share.
As she carries these pale flowers
with tender love and care.
if I hadn't been born
then perhaps the first color
I'd have seen would've been
(we have a hell of a lot of parks)
instead, all was white.
but I must correct myself
before the pro & upcoming artist hordes
all jump on my ass:
"white is NOT a real color!
you don't know anything!"
that's about all the colors
we have in this city:
and not to forget
you're right folks, I don't know much,
but if I say the latter are colors,
then they are.
with their plastic smiles and rubber souls,
overdosing on oxygen and melting at the night sky.
caged up hearts and metal minds,
lips full of fibs and fingertips full of light,
their fire eyes and typewriter feet,
cloudy chests masking emotion,
His smile shone A bright red.
Not the red of rose, or hues of alarms,
But with the crimson of rosy cheeks and the warmth that starts in your chest and simmers to the surface.
His gaze portrayed a calming gold.
The gold sewn into garments with delicate hands and the most subtle craftsmanship.
A gold, that reflected in flecks that peppered his eyes.
A gold that spoke words of eloquence.
He gave off colors that I had never seen before.
Not in paintings,
Or in the boldest of landscapes.
My color blindness had brought me to see him in a way that creates new vision.
Vision of person.
Vision of life.
Vision of true beauty.
The dust and sand lies still on my surface,
from the millions of impacts and punches my body has suffered,
are different than the dust and ash of yours
From all the elements that storm and whirl through you
Mine that is bleached from flares and light,
filled with every color you've felt
there are voids to fill with all of the wrong things
and you are to my brim
everywhere you should never have been
blue has never looked so grey
and i've never hated the sound of my name
i don't need nights with you to