in the corner of my eye
I see red
I can hear red, I can smell it
but I can't reach out
my arms glued to my sides, heavy
but wanting
I can't taste red, my taste buds burnt
and dull
everything tastes gray
like ash and dust and faded memories
I can't touch red
my fingertips unfeeling
no pleasure, no pain
just a frustrating nothing
red, the color of brick
of blood, of fruit
red, delicious and passionate
but like Tantalus
I am tortured because the color
so beautiful, so delicate
is just out of reach
every single time
I am drowning in gray
a colorless color
it fills my nose and eyes
every orifice coated in the sickly
slime of gray
I can't see, I am blinded
green, yellow, purple, orange
every color is missing
stolen, swarmed in gray
gray drips down the walls
from the ceiling
i can't stay afloat
I can't swim in the gray sea
that was once red
I am not Moses
I can't call on a god to save me
to turn the gray waters red
I destroy
I am destruction
searching, searching
taking, taking
ripping out hearts
and hoping to find
just a drop of red
but no
everything is gray
I turn to myself
where is my color?
I have color
inside me
I admire my veins, so blue
so blue
and with a shard of gray I discover
that my veins
run red
YOU ARE READING
BURN (Wattys2015?)
Poetry"Poetry...is thoughts that breathe and words that burn."--Thomas Gray "Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash." --Leonard Cohen Poems on the tough stuff in life. Poems on the crazy good stuff in li...
