Bring me back from clashes of colours, shades of the lovers I’ve mistaken for greys.
Help me excavate the oranges that gorge upon my forte;
spare me the purples I could never explain.
Crimson disdain adopted, the toxic reds of moving on from a
of optimism old
octaves can never reactivate.
She asked me to
name one colour
I’d still expend with a brush
all I recalled were
all I could wish
would burden me until
black and white went blind.
You can leave me behind, little rainbow; I’ve
too many blows to the eyes and
enjoy pigmental rites any longer.
I will always burn much stronger
underneath the weaker of lights.