i feel deep sorrow for those who are
colorblind.
not because they cannot
distinguish the difference between a
red rose or white, or
a green dress and blue, but
because they cannot see
the beauty that is the sunset.
they cannot tell of the colors that
hold onto one another and
mix in perfect harmony as they
blanket the sun and let her
sleep for the night, giving way to the
glint of the moon.
they cannot see the hues that
cause lovers to become awestruck and
fall deeper in love.
but they can see shadows and light.
they can see how their girlfriend's hair
darkens her profile a tiny bit,
creating contours.
they can see how beautiful she looks when
the sunlight hits her eyes and
makes them shine a brightness in competition
with the night stars.
they can see how the light slips from her face at night and how
shadows replace the brightness.
they can see how the morning light pushes out these shadows,
making room to lighten her face
once again.
perhaps the rise and fall of the light on a woman's face
are all the sunsets a
colorblind person
ever needs.

the words spilled from her mouth

here i sit,
as my best friend,
tells me
you have another.

i shouldn’t care.
but i do.

no matter how hard i try,
the poetry for you in which i write,
never ceases.
it just keeps pouring out of my soul.
it sometimes seems as if,
the poetry i write for you is what keeps my heart beating.
what keeps me breathing.

but now, what am i supposed to do?
her?
seriously?
do you think she will love you?
do you really think she will love you?
please tell me.

it’s hard to think of you with another
because we used to be so in love with each other.

it’s been a long time since we last spoke,
but it feels as if all the memories of us i have were just made yesterday.

you have another.
who will never,
ever,
love you in the way i could.

but my question for you is,
will you love her in the way you could towards me?

lights everywhere...
flicker.
up and down my street;
all across the world.

the bathroom light flickers as the delicate body that once was mine is burned.
burned by the disgustingness that uprises from my throat.
burned by the water from the too long showers i take
no matter how hard i try to throw up and flush the pain,
or how hard i try to scrub it off my skin with scorching hot water,
it never leaves.
the suffering never ends.

my kitchen light flickers.
as i eat my feelings.
or as i attempt to starve myself.
the fridge light flickers while i stare out at my backyard as if i was trapped in my house, and couldn’t go outside no mater how hard i tried.

the hall light flickers.
as i walk from room to room.
i relate to you, hallway.
you feel like you’re always being used,
for closets,
and to get from place to place.
no one cares much about you,
yet if you weren’t there they’d need you, want you back.
only then do they care.

the downstairs light doesn’t flicker.
only if i’m down there.
she thinks “what have i done wrong?”
oh mother. if only you knew what ran through my head.
the downstairs light doesn’t need to flicker,
it has long been off.

my bedroom light flickers.
when i frown. or laugh. or cry. or smile.
when i’m feeling down and when i’m high.
it flickers while i sit on my floor, head up against my dresser, hands running through my hair and across my eyes, wiping away tears.
i feel nothing except everything.

do the lights ever just simply turn on?
or will they just dim more and more until they give up?