When I first saw you, you were shades of flamboyant pink. I plucked you, pressed you and made you mine.
I was gentle as you were delicate and so charmingly intricate. You weren't a rose, you were pleasantly different, but you made me feel the colours of a sunset anticipating sky.
Now, you're shades of brown and purple. You're so beautiful, even in the absence of your vivid colours.
And you left, leaving me monochromed.
I'm now gloomy clouds, loud storms and heavy rainfall, no longer the hues of painted skies along the horizon. Even so, I would still try to smear colours back into your life. I love you, but you're no longer mine.
YOU ARE READING
Mended
PoetryThrowback to the broken hearted days. Written in the past, here's a compilation of words strung together depicting what I felt then. Love is the only thing that is capable of making you feel so good, yet can of kill you inside out. But pain is beaut...
