All She Could Do With Red, Yellow, Blue

If comparison kills, why is she so very here?

If you could see inside her head, you’d ask why she’s not buried yet.

Flick to who she wishes to be, to who she used to be, to what those eyes have seen that make her hate where she’s been.

Flashes of green, what she wants. Of slate, shows her what she’s got. Of red, everything her neighbour has, that she feels she does not.

Midas gold, how she seems. Her twofold grin, lilac and ink. Her bounty, drowning herself in the depths of a juniper Wreake.

If it’s all a mind game, she needs now pick up and paint.

If it’s all a mind game, she needs know it is far from too late.

Just under her nose, within the bounds of her control, a palate - red, yellow, blue, longingly awaits.