The black fabric clings  
to my dampened skin  
in this oppressive heat,
while the sun beats down,
indifferent to my grief,  
making my loss heavier to bear.

I wear this darkness  
on the outside now,  
while the emptiness of loss  
ironically thrives within.  
How strange it is that colours speak  
what words I dare not say.

Black is not just a colour,  
but the weight of something lost,  
the saddest shade, absent of light,  
offering no relief in return, 
as I long for cooling breezes
that I cannot feel.

In this attire of sorrow,  
I walk through sunny days  
as a contradiction,  
I am a gloomy shade  
amidst summer's lively scenes,  
wearing my grief on my sleeve.

©️Lizzie Bevis