I was in the moment;
Caught off guard.
You didn’t notice.
Hard is hard.
I saw my memory dance before me,
And it was glorious, let me tell you.
But it wasn’t like that,
And you bet I know it.
Sometimes my mind likes to add colors where they aren’t supposed to be.
I know too well that memory was golden grey.
As plain as could be,
But golden to me.
I deserved better than that;
Every color the eye can see.
Yes, we know that now,
With a new partner to be.
I see shades of fuchsia ingrained in my sockets;
Vibrant evergreens along my nerves;
Lint of hints of crimson within my old coat’s pockets.
But lint is lint;
Fleeting, is it not?
The memory came as sudden as the memory left.
No lint of crimson left to preserve.
Not when I deserve an endless palette of colors to explore.