The indistinguishable shades

I am the colour of hope,

a melting snow,

and untarnished bar of soap.

I am the colour of bright eyes

at the uttering of good news,

the gleam of pearl white teeth

and dove tattoos.

I am the morning sun rays

fanning a fire at the small of my back,

when thinking, that one day,

There'll be nothing I lack.

I am the colour of contentment,

when I manage to catch a whiff

of a sweet childhood scent,

and on the journeys home, after late nights

with friends, full of roads turned orange with neon signs.

I am the colour of a warm Californian poppy

that’s growing on a field in straight lines.

The colour of home ambient light.

I am the colour of rage,

blazing, angry and red

I purse my lips, wishing others would engage

to dismantle the world’s unjust ways.

I am the colour of molten metal,

and I pray to the mighty

my actions for change will unsettle.

I am the colour of success,

the deep tinge of clover, and

of my expensive evening dress.

The green of my dog’s collar,

and of foreign lands

The ends of meetings, marked

by the shake of the hands.

I am the colour of despair,

oxidised silver and starless nights

when it’s impossible to leave my lair

I note the failures of my body.

I rest my eyes and I want to sleep;

I want to forget this temporary blip

of mind, and so I try counting the sheep.

I am the colour of tar and shadow.

Under a pillow, I burrow my head deep.

I am the colour of calm,

a deep ocean blue.

I can be a broken soul’s balm —

the deepening of breath and soothing of mind.

I cause the minutes to stretch

and direct the muscles to unwind.

I am the quiet after the storm,

the stoic face in the middle

of a seething crowd.

I am the colour of anxiety;

a mottled skin of a new bruise,

ignited by the pressures of society —

the watchful gaze,

and unwritten rules.

I constantly fear I’ll appear

like one of the fools,

doing something unthinkably mad.

It’s so, so sad.

I am the spilt gasoline

shimmering on the tarmac,

The entirety of an artist’s palette,

The sky after a burst of rain

on a cloudless summer’s day.

I am a bleeding mess of colours —

contradictory,

shifting and unbound.

I’m not one, but many

indistinguishable shades of life.