is her favourite colour red?
Like a rose filled with passion and worth loving everyday
or she makes me bleed when I try to hold her
I notice that her hands are red
is it blood of her prior lover or just his kisses
can she ever be a rose of another colour
yellow, pink, white maybe? But then
If I held her then my blood would stain her beauty
now it blends in perfectly like a teardrop in rain
deeper the colour of her lips
for every stroke of petals she touches
but like wine for every passing year
she’ll just get better and better
is her favourite colour blue?
she brings my life out of the blue
like a sea I’ll never know everything about her
which makes me think all the time
and sometimes even dream about her
she is like a moon on a dark blue night
lighting up my life allowing me to see the stars
is her favourite colour green?
Like a leaf she inhales my sorrows and exhale love
she has the ability to change a simple caterpillar
into a colourful butterfly filled with so many colours
many of their names I don’t even know
every spring she is a new shade of green
watching her multiplying like hyacinth over my lake
is that all? No!
She might like white, pink or even exotics like gold
whatever she likes I know she will always colour up my life.

The sky was pinkle when I woke,
A shade of laughter, half a joke.
The clouds turned sorn, a moody hue,
Like whispers drenched in morning dew.

I dress in plasmic, soft and shy,
A color caught between a sigh.
My shoes were tied with strings of frave,
The color brave, that I crave.

The streets were wet, a glistening feel,
Like promises too sharp, too real.
I stepped through puddles, blur and glant,
With hues that speak, but never chant.

The trees were spindle, tall and thin,
Their leaves were painted grun and kin.
The world spun round in shades unknown,
Colors that feel, but never shown.

By evening, selk began to fall,
A hue that echoes with no call.
And as the night wore shades of flow,
I drifted where the colors go.

An itch of an inch – scratching to reach that place we once
walked; it was almost the measure of love; with elevating
conversations that led to a level of trust. Now wearing linen
divorce clothes, to separate the time that wore us down; as I
carried a smile in a frown; as we all plant a seed of respect we
have for others, hoping in due time it flourishes.

But trust me, winter is loveless – summer is the state of your
heart, where the sun still longs to shine even when it’s hidden
behind the clouds. Love is needless, to those who only respond
by the own feelings; looking for someone just to entertain them,
by only giving them a good feeling.

As all my bones break in despair; at the sound of the skeletons,
I must break in my closet – my soul shakes like the trees caught
in a storm; with electric branches. I’ve been struck down; made
to be someone with no passion, no meaning, or digression.
Passive-aggressive – only out of annoyance; for an inch of my
life, revolves around entertaining people who show pieces of
their true colours, and still expect me to act colourblind.

How they offend my sight!

Burnished green,
Coloured crimson—
Reminiscent of the city of Dis.

Rising from churning seas of the onyx chagrin!
Carrying clandestine echoes of a civilisation within!
Dismantled— reassembled—
Delivering concrete messages to a futuristic kin.

Gaunt of the clergy,
Gaunt of the orchid,
Gaunt of a worship violation,
Conjuring apparitions of violent dissent!
The blue and the teal, they kneel, unseen,
Receiving concrete messages from a cardinal, unseen.

Sun bearing down upon the straining, emerald trees!—
Many eyes and many limbs reach skywards,
Towards temple steams.