Twice

The day when I lost you,
I didn't know what to do.
Holding my heart in my hands,
I've finally come to understand -
when you slipped your fingers between mine,
our present and our future intertwined
but I guess I was hypnotized
by your big brown eyes,  I didn't realize
we were just a dream in a reality
where you ended up breaking me -
my heart ripped off from my chest,
baby, look at this mess,
you made me look like a fool for you
standing there not knowing what to do.
Then you kissed me goodbye in the rain,
there, I lost you once again.

Colors of You

I don't remember your face, you come back as flashbacks in dreamy colors, like the fairy lights reflected on the back of my eyelids. Sometimes they only show when I frown hard enough with my eyes closed. Sometimes they come as colors that don't exist.

Colors like the roses you left on my front porch, only they weren't wine red. Pity they were out in the cold for too long, no one remembers how vivid they once were. The color of your apologies laid on the floor, I wanted to forgive you but they stung me like the thorns that grew on your sorry's and please take me back's. I wanted to forgive you but I couldn't forget the sodden petals under the melted snowflakes, the same color on both my wrists the night you took a part of me away.

Colors the grown ups were dressed in, as if floating in gowns at a stainless church, wearing stethoscopes around their necks like some expensive shiny silver. Saints are what people call them. Chaste and flawless saviors, giving life to the newborn with every velvet touch before the babies were even wrapped up in their mothers' arms with love. The same color I saw before they put me to sleep, only waking up to realize the life was taken out of and away from me.

Colors on the corsage I wore to our senior prom, it matched the pansy boutonnière stuck on your chest. The flowers, just like us, bloom in Spring and wilt when Autumn comes. Their vibrancy fades into a darker shade of violet when Winter steals their glow. I wish I had words for the tarnished beauty, but the pigments could only be depicted by the bruises on your knuckles when you punched the wall and ended up leaving a hole in my heart.