Amongst Other Things

That colour which turns to pink, and possibly
To purple from blue;
That colour which coils from the hurt
You’ve gone through;
That colour of demise, as it has been
Called many times;
But I know and feel, that is just
Not true.

That colour which plays with a charlatan
In deceit;
That colour of lust and love, and all
That heat;
That colour which makes you forget, just to
Rhetoric a sunset,
Not that you can do so, not that you can let
Those aplomb thoughts bleed.

That colours which can, and must
Drive you insane;
That colour of elicit emotion, when you’re just so
Tired of mundane;
That colour which engraves its power, when you
Oughtn’t pay heed,
But you will, because you like to be different, like
To be a hurricane.

That colour which blooms, of regret
In October;
That colour which delicates rotten grape, somehow
Still sober;
That colour when touched, becomes of
A ludicrous soul and such;
But we call ourselves birds, committing ourselves
To all the hopers.

That colour which embraces the
Call of death;
That colour which enwraps a coffin
With wreath;
That colour which you dream of, in the
Sunlit beams;
Which drives you nostalgic and
Out of breath.

That colour which falters the hope
Of existence;
That colour which lets you bleed to a
Thought of thence;
That colour of tears, when someone you
Hold dear, disappears;
When all you wanted was a tinct of pixie dust, just a
Step of belief over the fence.

That colour which completely and incompletely
Beguiles my death bed;
That colour which will remind me of the
Words I’ve said;
That colour which throughout I see, for it has been
Made my fiend be,
Just the way those lives I’ve held, all those piddly demons
I have been coerced to wed;

That colour is red, my love;
And amongst other things,
It defines me.


9 thoughts on “Amongst Other Things

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