oblivion | p.j.m

v.

I can't see colours.

When you first ruptured me,
All colours seemed to drain out of my eyes,
And fell with my tears

I couldn't even see shades of grey.
Not even black.
Just white.

Black is the colours of your eyelids when they close.
But when you die,
Have we not been informed all you see if a white light?
I skipped the black.
My breathe was sucked away
With the fingers that traced a final shape of my lips.
The lights of your iris were blind in my vision,
As you let the white light engulf you.

I used to think you were angelic in the white.
You glowed.
But I missed your blue glow,
Or the way I would pepper you with yellow,
My lips making you sigh shades of green.

You were the pallet that I wanted to paint my life with.
Yet, all I have to my name,
is an empty easel

But now,
All I could see was red.
At first it was the red of your lips,
The red of your cheeks,
The red of your skin under my tongue.
Now, it's the blinding anger that clouds my eyesight

Now, I can see colour.
Because I could finally see your full picture.
It makes me sick.