It’s funny how everything is yellow.

At least when I’m next to you…

But on the drive home,

everything is tinted blue.

And it’s not because I’m leaving you.

 

I’m looking in my mirrors,

and my imperfections at loving seem a little closer too.

 

You wanted so badly for the flowers to be alive.

Forgetting all the thank-yous’ and i’m sorry’s,

jumping to I need you and…

 

Those flowers look a little dry.

 

Like a cup of coffee in the morning,

bittersweet, sunshine seeping through.

I always thought I liked tea better.

 

I was wrong.

 

I like your color of love.

I like that you taste like intention,

leads me to question,

why when we first met I didn’t pay attention.

You taste like coffee.

 

You write poetry.

And notably,

It’s a lot better than mine.

 

You write poetry in your living.

You care so deeply about the heart’s surrounding you,

the color of your soul is the color of giving.

I wish you’d tend your own now.

 

I never deserved this.

A subtle, inexplicable

yellow bliss.

I want to love you deeper.

I want you to feel yellow when we kiss.

 

But then you sing.

Stealing soft breaths

between syllables.

Your voice quivering;

a violin’s bow.

Your fingertips move

so slow.

 

Yellow is more than skin-deep,

red is visible.

 

Blue is losing you,

it’s confusing you,

its seventy days.

It’s do I choose you?

 

Breathing you is automatic.

I’ve been thinking so much,

I’m an addict.

In my own skin.

Inhaling you, like oxygen.

 

You’re the most beautiful person.

 

But I’m afraid if I fall any more,

this will only worsen.

 

Seeing tomorrow in your eyes, and days in your touch.

Give me a chance, when time allows

to show you yellow love.

 

These are the colors you didn’t see.