Color Me Always

Going under,
a rising tide of cold takes it all from me
I thought you were mine
and then somewhere in there,
my words and voice were gone
I was yours and I wasn’t my own
but you were careless
more careless
than I ever thought I could be.
I don’t say these words out loud.
I don’t see these things
because I know you’ll see me
in a different light
a bad one
a red and black one
a blue one
and it’ll color me always,
in tones of damage and hate.

No tags for this post.

About Catastrophe Jones

Wretched word-goblin with enough interests that they're not particularly awesome at any of them. Terrible self-esteem and yet prone to hilarious bouts of hubris. Full of the worst flavors of self-awareness. Owns far too many craft supplies. Will sing to you at the slightest provocation.
This entry was posted in Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

Go ahead -- say something. Anything.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.