My Colours

Red is my blood, slashed through history,

Illicit scars – games played to prove I lived;

Your mouth, rude temptation, window to your insides;

Spilt violence of bitter cuts; heart-stealing.

Red is the pinpricks that produced my patchwork;

The life-force licking through my reality;

The poppy that grows from the fields of before.

Red is how I have lived.

Black is my soul, my shadow, my shroud,

My reason for existence; my starling’s body –

All colours combined, no light; liquid, unfixable,

Freedom to move, not to be seen; the murky depths of

My understanding, my comprehension. Black is

My cover, my warmth, my safe haven, my protection.

Reflections of death and re-birth in a different form.

Black is why I have lived.

White is my flesh, mortal and ending,

A cold despair, snapped and broken, washed away;

A polished ice-brutality which leaves me

Cleansed of emotions; a thin hunger

Falling like snow – no sound, no smell, blank sight;

The taste of peace in all its lifelessness.

White is when I have not lived.

Green is my sense, dirt beneath my nails,

The smell of rain, wind in my eyes; clambering,

Rolling, boys and girls, the taint of growth coming.

Green is grass tickling the backs of our legs;

Taking a deep breath of innocent youth, too raw;

Hand-holding; the smear of grass stain on torn clothes.

Green is what I have lived.

Yellow my bones, my strength and support,

Hugged by sunbeams, wrapped tight around me;

The comfort of family, treacle thick.

Yellow is close but unknowing, my honeyed veil;

My blinding deception, too hot to touch;

The bond with my baby, my husband, my cronies,

Strands weaving in and out of my tapestries.

Yellow is which lives I have lived.

Blue is my mind, thoughts drifting in space,

Re-energising my creativity;

Cool, refreshing visions, causing my escape.

Blue is far-seeing, yet vast with no limits;

The ripples in the sky after diving in.

Blue is where I have lived.

Silver my sparkle, fairy-tale chains,

Bound by ever-afters, subtle veins of meaning.

Each ring is a magic charm, producing a

Different distortion on your reflection.

Silver is thin slices of hidden laughter; barter for hearts;

The side-lines of peripheral vision,

A glimpse caught in the light reflecting back.

Silver is whom I have lived.