Lint of Crimson

Standard

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.

 

 

Color Me Mine

Standard

I’ve been telling myself it’s one or the other.
There’s no gray,
Colors were lost in the fray.

Pick up a blue and a yellow;
A red if you’d like.
You don’t need to color your life right now.
You have time.
Relax, don’t question how,
Or why or when.
You’ll know when you know.