Nov 14, 2017
Untitled poem-twenty four
She sat on the side as
a wallflower, a gazer, a passerby.
She watched as everyone around her experienced
color.
Color.
A concept she didnât understand.
The idea of blue,
the color of the ocean, the shade of his cerulean eyes, a visual deep breath.
The idea of red,
the color of blood in our veins, the shade of her lush lips, a visual of passion.
The idea of purple,
the color of power, the shade of the bruises lining their jawbones, a visual of ardor.
She was stuck in grey.
Grey.
Where nothingÂ
of warmth,Â
or emotion,
or pleasure,
was known.
Only grey.Â
