Shores

It's times like these that make me realise how

unwhole

a person can be.

How grey life would look without the

oranges, and the yellows, and the blues,

without the colors of you.

How plain the same things could look

if they do not have a touch of you

in them.

And to think how easily

you have let go of all of it

not only once but again and again,

you have let go of the colors, the touches, the feelings, and

the love that

happens only once,

only to the lucky ones,

and we were the lucky ones babe;

but to think how easily you let go of all of that

makes me wonder if

we really were what I thought we were.

If you ever saw us in the same light as I did,

if you ever truly felt for me all that you said

you did.

It makes me wonder.

Are your yellows still yellow, and your oranges still

orange,

if red still looks like it used to

with me,

or if just like me

everything is just black and a little white?

If your days still feel like days when I

see them only as pieces of time to

escape the nights when I'm alone and nothing

except for you

lives in my head.

If the shore still looks like a shore or a threshold

instead

that one needs to walk past

to be rid of it all.