colors
you've always had a fragile grip on reality. you tried to hold it in your hands with clenched, white knuckles. but it would leak through your fingers and splatter on the floor at your feet. a lot of things tended to escape from you.
you've always held too tight or not tight enough. that's why you lost me. you held me so tight that the blue and purple from your fingertips painted my skin like watercolor.
the vibrant colors that my skin used to hold were now gone. your blue and purple replaced my orange, pink, and yellow. you saw what you had done and then you knew.
when I left, so did your color. your skin turned gray, even your eyes.
I'm sorry I left.
And I'm sorry nothing could save you.
YOU ARE READING
words for the wind
Thơ cashort writings and poems about sad shit like love and heartbreak _______________________________ previously known as "Lost"
