monochrome boy keeps a little stash of blue in his eyes. well, at least most of the time. i told him once that there was a sweet, warm sort of sadness about him, and amongst his greyscale i saw an unfamiliar glimpse of the most becoming wildflower yellow.
It's never black or white,
Up or down, night or day
In the twilight of the plight,
In the banal and malaise.
I can wish for better sight
In the mist, in the haze,
But I'm left with waning might.
See the dimming of my gaze?
But then, AWAY...
Lift the veil with burning blaze!
Evaporate the mist
As if the sun had come to play!
Push the pastel and fluorescent
Past the limits of distaste!
I see the best of light's forays
In the spectrum of your face,
And through the tears of blinding beauty,
You are the color in the gray!
— The End —