the colors in dreams and memories

the leafs of my favorite novel

(leads to)

the pages of his sketchbook

the red in my cheeks

(leads to)

his converses and his sweat shirt

the frame of my glasses

(leads to)

his leather jacket

the flesh on my lips

(leads to)

the flushed surface of his fingertips

the hair bow i wear on my wrist

(leads to)

the iris of the eyes i have sincerely missed

but those colors don't compare

to the contrast of her eyes

with his

or

his pale hands running through

her auburn hair

he doesn't compare

wild blonde hair

to a yellow rose

or

a spotted foal

to the freckles on my nose

instead

he writes prose

of the galaxy

and of

being the star

in her orion's belt

of feeling the sun's rays

in every feeling felt

and every love song

he belts

he's found love

in the colors of her eyes

and i've found mine

in memories

without goodbyes