Stripped of Color


Sometimes

Sometimes, even as the sun shines draped with birds’ singsong

There is but a touch missing from inside the horizons of your soul

You’ve gone too deep in misery and it’s company

That you can’t really tell glitter from coal

Distinctly one thing is quite certain

Everything is an evenly painted gray

Things — they all feel the same.

No spark of red or blue or a tinge of yellow

Careful now, you wouldn’t want to inadvertently stir your soul.

Sometimes, like those nightmares you wish you could shake loose

They just don’t seem to let go.

And then you find

That, with time

All you can do is stand firm — and smile

Bad or worse or gray or white

In that very moment of reveling in pithy misery

you light a match ever so silently

one that burns quietly yet fiercely

until the very end — of your soul.

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