Yellow
I guess you know by now
I wasn't born to match the sun
Yet, I want to lay down with her
Without cursing the night.
Listen,
There are no magic tricks
On its padlocked fists,
Or shortcuts
To dry paper cuts
While we fall in love
with our scars
In an old-fashioned way.
So color me yellow,
Let's leave the maybes
At the door,
Press the button
Of new beginnings
As if we're running out of time,
Shall we?
© Amsterdam
02.18.26
A