Note from author: this is personally one of my favorite works of mine
Beige
Travesty overcome by little else but life's muses, it's jokes.
A pit in my stomach.
Deep, dark, and lukewarm. Black.
Black is bottomless. Bottomless yet blinding in its darkness.
Wanting to cover every aspect, everything becomes shattered and black.
I was the joke.
Something wet falls down my face and silently tastes salty on my lips.
The tears fell.
That moment when my head feels empty,
The thought of a thought hurts.
Breathing slowly, the motions of the day pass by
like a pure white dove falls from the sky.
White is too bright, overcomes everything in its path.
Egotistical, overrated, dependent, needy.
I wanted to call out but there too was no sound.
Reaching out but everyone is looking away. So resigning myself to the silence,
I wait.
For someone to look down from their white pedestal and see my lowly form,
To take a pity I do neither want nor deserve.
To envelope my darkness with not even white, but maybe a cream or a beige.
Beige is a nice color. Not too demanding, silently accenting the walls.
Seen, hardly, but is never truly heard.
It's a quiet color, like myself. I was meant to be quiet.
That's what they say.
So,
Here I am.
Quiet as you have asked.
Really, I never want to hurt anyone.
I would, will, can do anything.
Just for You to smile.
Say goodbye to me tonight and maybe, just maybe,
I'll stay beige.
YOU ARE READING
Honey Drops and Pen Stains
PoetryTravesty, overcome by little else but life's muses; It's jokes. All of this is my original poetry, please do not steal