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Colors fade
As your memory
Tries to reclaim them.
But it already is too late.
You will not remember me.
There's no use holding onto the stem.
Our memories were brilliant,
Painted in every possible color.
We thought they were resilient,
But with every passing day,
All they do is get duller.
As if they were done in clay.
These fading colors,
These corrupted memories.
They're hidden under covers
As they slowly reach their boundaries.
What would it take?
Take to make them shine again?
Take for them to regain
The colors now seeming so fake?
They used to seem so bright,
Illuminated every single night.
What's left of what we had,
All of it has gone bad.
These faded hints of color
Hints of grey and sepia,
Can they get any duller?
It feels as if we had amnesia,
But it's just the price of time.
However,
Whenever I smell thyme,
I dare believe I'll never
Forget who you were to me.
Just like the old tree
We carved our names into.
As our colors gradually fade,
I'll ask you if you still remember
What we slowly made,
Still remember,
How our memories began to lose color.
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Question: should I start making an artbook aswell? There, you'll be able to see even more of my art and sketches because not all of them have a story or poem.
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Into My Mind And Back - Of Poetry, Short Stories And Art
RandomMost writers think before they write, but isn't it better to let your emotions and unconscious mind take control over what you're writing? This is a compilation of some of my poems and short stories, of which most have some kind of art acompanying t...
