losing track of fire

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
greener sense
of optimism old
octaves can never reactivate.

She asked me to
name one colour
I’d still expend with a brush
but
all I recalled were
shades of
uncertainty,
all I could wish
would burden me until

black and white went blind.

You can leave me behind, little rainbow; I’ve
suffered
too many blows to the eyes and
don’t
enjoy pigmental rites any longer.

I will always burn much stronger
underneath the weaker of lights.

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One thought on “losing track of fire

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