Colour me in

She asks, do you see how the white light splits

in brilliance through glass, if angle's right?

Transparent, blank, then seen through. She commits

-

to crimson, lustful rose and beaming bright

lemon, tart as exposure tastes. A lick

of pink, embarrassed, warms the skin. Hindsight

-

mocks jealous greens, waiting for it to click.

She knocks, waiting with purple tulips, hands

the bunch to patient lover and a trick

-

of Bordeaux paints their tongues with cancelled plans.

Share apricots, their sweetness sticking skin

as floral scented sympathy demands.

-

She asks, do you see farewell blues seep in?

She asks, do you see how the colours spin?