Blue paint stings
the edges of my fingertips.
I hate the color blue.
I hate it. I hate how it
reminds me of your eyes.
your hair. Your smile.
Your faded blue lips.
The way you would laugh.
I hate it because sky blue
reminds me of how you would
blush a lighter shade.
I hate how there are so
many damn shades for it.
Why can't there only be
one? Why can't there only
be one Azura? An Azura that
will never leave.
The paint has gone dry
and so has my memory.
I'm a fading canvas and
there isn't anything that
can bring me back to life.
YOU ARE READING
shades of red
Poetrywhen you have too many thorns, all you can do is paint them in red, because, maybe then, they will look like petals [sequel to shades of blue]
