The black fabric clings
to my dampened skin
in this oppressive heat,
while the sun beats down,
indifferent to my grief,
making my loss heavier to bear.
I wear this darkness
on the outside now,
while the emptiness of loss
ironically thrives within.
How strange it is that colours speak
what words I dare not say.
Black is not just a colour,
but the weight of something lost,
the saddest shade, absent of light,
offering no relief in return,
as I long for cooling breezes
that I cannot feel.
In this attire of sorrow,
I walk through sunny days
as a contradiction,
I am a gloomy shade
amidst summer's lively scenes,
wearing my grief on my sleeve.
©️Lizzie Bevis