When you dip her in the middle of the dance floor, it is the color of her dress. When she whispers into your ear, it is the color of her lips. When you make love, it is the color you want her to leave all over your body. When she places her palm over your heart, it is the color that comes to the surface as her fingertips trail like a sentence that can never be finished. When you see her in your bed with another, it is the color of your breath. When you smash the case in the hall, it is the color that threatens you to abandon the broken pieces. When you scream at the top of your lungs, it is the color that pierces the atmosphere. When she hears you, it is the color of her pulse. When you look into her eyes for the last time, it is the fading color of your heart falling to your knees. It is not the color you see when she leaves.
YOU ARE READING
Rant On
PoetryHey this is just a book full of quotes, poems, and rants. Some may be triggering.
