Colour(lessness) Of Fall
Colour(lessness) Of Fall1 min 352 1 min 352
My fall is not orange and crimson
It's just too many smothering shades of green
It's not tickling under my bare feet
Not stuck in my hair
But clinging to the underside of my nails
Filth I've already painted 3 coats over
My fall is ugly
Like your palette, after several attempts at that one school project, you never turned in
I'm hitting all kinds of notes
Just not in that usual good-sounding rote
My song is ugly
Like your late December skin
Their silver shadows
Pink at the core
A dog... But wings?
Oh! A butterfly now
How you listen to conversations you're never a part of
But then I turn to speak to you
And it's suddenly white noise
You take my mouth
Just mute the volume
My words are ugly
Like scratches on your back made last week in that bathroom stall
Do they have a face?
What do you call them?
Does light get caught up in their eyes like fireflies in a mason jar?
Do your hands need maps traveling their body in the dark?
Are their heels just a tad bit rough so they hold their ground on top of your feet?
How do they sound, lips around your airy sweet nothings?
Are they ugly too, like cigarette butts in your ashtray I threw out just this morning?