I am
I am blue.
On days bitter like lemon rinds
with less to offer than a cloudless sky
over parched land.
I am white.
Like a blank slate
untouched
and incredibly empty.
But sometimes I am orange.
Mixed with racing hearts and uncontrollable laughter.
And I am red.
Like eyes exhausted from seeing
knuckles open and scraped with love.
I am colorful and explosive
intertwined.
I am more than words can paint.
I am twenty shades of nothing and everything.
And I am all that’s in between.
But for now I am black.
Like the ink that hits the paper.
Spilling…fading…gone.
This poem is about:
Me