your life needed
a little more color
but, not from
my palette.

if you were a hue
from the rainbow;
you would probably
be a war-streak on
a canvas.

there is a quiver;
a cry of despair
at the back of
my throat
threatening to
shape into
piercing screams
that i never want
you to hear.
i don't want
you to think
i'm weak.

heartfelt grief
can be tasted at
the tip of my
tongue;
my dream filled
eyes only have
nightmares now.

what have you
done to me?