milk hair, milk clothes
a world painted in thick hues of the very same cream
the whirr of a printing press on blank paper
The flutters of fragile wings are perhaps all but enough to bring a child to hasty tears.
A mirror bought to
of echoing frailty,
a chord at its highest piercing note.
The crescendo before dusk.
pair of hands encased in its own
polite and light on the tongue,
a vain blind
Barred fingers in cells of clickety clackety letters and fonts of paintbrushes or the odd twitch.
not a pin-drop
not the screeches of bosses
And when the paper is stacked high on coffee refrains and static routine.
Cell blown to bits
refunded at a bitter price.
Blank as snow and crisp as winter.
Gone like snow the very next morning.
But ever so physically there.
I have no clue
You know what?
What you are to me?
You live inside
With heavenly grace
In all shades and hues
And flow naturally
Tracing a way
As the verses
Thanks for being
If i have not said?
Theme: Sculpting the thought
Your Display Hues
Your Touch Cues
RAM to ROM
ROM to RAM.
From the book Feelings Coated
I've seen the bright new colors of tomorrow
because you're in it
I see wonder and hope everyday
because you gave me the will to fight
I wasn't the best
yet you choose me
so I manage to control the hues
ordinarily, you set them up
but I should contain everything
to keep things at its finest
uncertainty glued in every surface
you make me want to see the colors
that my own mind has robbed me of
sometimes i don't see the hues that i once loved
or want to
you understand this though
and youre okay with watching things with me
in black and white
We all have some darkness,
But we all still have some light.
In the midst of trying to find ourselves,
We lost the endeavoring plight.
The day is too dull,
So we live in the night.
Fading the colors of this
White, bright life.
In stark starlessness
you crawl your way
from dusk to dawn
lingering in the morning blues.
Your own hues
transform from warm
to cool, arriving
just before white.
And your light,
provided by your lover
shines down as if your own;
as if you were alone.
The blue iris melts its petals
like the teary wax
on the musky walls of the lavender candle.
The butterfly crunches its yellow,
crisp thin wings like translucent scales
followed by the crashing echo in the mirror walls of the corridor.
The heat in the air blares in turquoise
somersaulting between the
invisible layers of humidity and oxygen
sticking to the skin like midday sunrays.
You breathed tenderness
Into my bones
With pumpkin spice kisses
And waves of sunshine,
Leaking through locked fingertips.
And for moments, gone too soon,
We were one hue;
Red and orange in deep tones
With the rhythm of every inhale
A symphonic masterpiece.