tilt your head up to the crowded, heavy sky
watch it fall
it isn’t sad, but something a little more
lingering in the creases of hands that have let go
behind every torn and put together photograph that you
glance over on late nights
a fire’s exhale after dying, over and over
the acrid smell curling around the
tendrils of your hair
soft and harsh crammed into
so busy yet
all at once
to you, it might be something like loneliness
but to me,
it can’t be anything but home.
.My Favorite Color.
My favorite color?
It's been my favorite since I was little.
Roses can be this color.
The color of flamingos and bubble gum,
Strawberry smoothies and ice cream,
Erasers and cotton candy,
Pigs and hair,
Types of clothes,
Have you guessed my favorite color yet?
The Color That I Am
That Only I Can See
Is Slowly Killing Me
The Color Of The Darkness
And The Evil In Your Heart
And It Is Ripping Me Apart
The Color Of The Night
And The Emptyness Around
Is Tying Me Up And Holding Me Down
Yes, The Color That I Am
That Now You Can See
Is The Thing That Makes Me, Me........
My true colours.
For the longest time my favourite colour was just beige,
no personality, or originality
I was seen, not heard, from a very young age.
For the longest time I liked the shades of cream,
a people pleaser, a negotiator
when conflict came, I’d dilute the screams.
For the longest time I was mostly unnoticeable,
No opinions, a background colour,
a calming tone of complimentary neutral.
I always thought that beige and cream were metaphors for being nice,
I’d paint myself with shades of stone, even when the colours weren’t right,
I’d smile and nod, say yes to things that really didn’t suit me,
so it’s time to show my true colours ,paint red
........and maybe turn a bit nasty.