It's hard to see
the fields of green
when everything is burned
It's hard to be blue
about my vision of us two
when the water never churns
let's go to bed, dream of the dead
while all we see is our blood, red
at least this way
all the spectrums in our day
will still live, and never turn to grey
If it were our last, the orange sunset to fade
would our memories together still remain?
like running through a meadow
flowers bright and yellow
the blackness we feel
when it was time to quit us, and let go?
pink, purple, white, and gold
they were not meant for us, stories of a future untold
time is convoluted, mixed between the here and now.
our lives are like color
bleeding from one, to another
and managed to still be separate somehow
©despair
D