Dark Without Light
When I say, I wish you were here,
does that make you present?
Every time I close my eyes light flashes,
bright spots in the dark. I have never
known true dark. As a child, I used to mix all the colors
— brown, indigo, fuchsia, orange, lime green, violet —
swirling them into a murky mess
to fabricate the approximation of black.
But contrary to a five year old's expectations
white is all colors. Black is empty.
You cannot mix paint to produce
absence. I have never known
true absence. You are not even a ghost, just distant,
just apart of the fabric of the universe
outside of the reach of my peripheral vision,
just a vibrant flare on the inside of my eyelid.
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Note: This poem was inspired by a prompt offered by RenCirdan, who wrote, "What is black if there is no white to compare it to. If bad is only bad when compared to good is there really any good or bad at all. Or are there simply just shades of grey that aren't totaly good or bad."
YOU ARE READING
The Poetry Project
PoesiaThe Poetry Project was ongoing from early 2013 through April 30, 2014. It invited readers to submit prompts, which I turned into poems. The prompts were quite varied and let me stretch my skills, like doing calisthenics. The project is over, but th...
