She Remembers In Technicolour Dreams

She vividly remembers surfing the high of your passion,

Enveloping the love in and squirrelling it away from another’s sight,

Holding tight to the glory days, the precious words,

Whispered loudly as she crests the waves of your pain and your ability to fight.

***

There’s not a minute or hour that she doesn’t treasure,

Each moment shimmering in the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow,

Forget the nickel and dimes, they’re not worth the tears and heartache,

Her treasure is made up of beauty, sorrow, love and that horrid final deathblow.

***

The nights are made for strolling down memory lane,

Eating the deliciousness until her heart brims in full,

Surrendering to the faux pas, who will ever remember her sins,

It’s the secrets, the shame and the desire in which she hordes a pocketful.

***

There are days she’d give her mind a break, trying to forget,

But you persist like an anchor snagged in amongst the historical wreck,

Her tears are the tepid rainfall, her smiles the rising sun,

Your anger is her nemesis, your sarcasm as destructive as a bounced cheque.

***

Days are pleasant, warm blue skies with not a single cloud in sight,

She can be seen dancing the railway track,

Smiles and sensuous gazes,

As she flourishes through the hours endeavouring to fight your payback.

***

But then the sun falls over the horizon,

With it goes the light in her eyes,

The darkening skies a sordid reminder she wishes to ignore,

Knowing it means pain and final goodbyes.

***

She longs for the comfort of her slumber,

Only to find the memories darker than all her days,

As she dreams in technicolors,

And her destruction sears through the painful blaze.

***

You’ll never have to fear her amnesia,

Oh no, you’ll live on into an eternal fallback loop,

Her heart you’ve seared, leaving it minced, bloody and raw,

Every minute replayed over and over again, the ultimate dupe.

***

It may all be over, faded from her earthly sight,

But her life is no longer a dove’s coo, more like an eagle’s scream,

As her nights are stolen, hidden away from her grasp,

Until all she is left with is her technicolour dream.

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Originally posted on Medium