The Sunflower Yellow of New Beginnings

To My First Love,

❀

What colour is the sky where you are?

Is it the blood red of a murder scene?

Or the lavender shade from the pot plant on my window sill?

My house is cloaked in an angry grey of storm clouds

This kind of weather makes me think of you (so do all the rest)

❀

You used to look like a movie style hero

I used to think your face was a shape

That would fit perfectly

Into the palm of my hand like

Russian Dolls made to fit together

I used to think your arms

Would wrap flawlessly

Around my body like

Vines weaving their way

Around a tree

Safely cacooning it

From the outer world

❀

Now I try not to think of you

As the sun rises as surely as

I used to love you

And I try not to see you

In every brown haired boy

And broad shouldered silhouette

And I try not to remember you

When I hear the word soulmate

Or am asked about the

State of my heart

But you were once

My whole story

The cover and the paper

And the ink and the white space

The dedication and the blurb

And the tears that made

The pages dry crinkled

❀

What colour is the paint on your hands?

Mine is no longer the crimson of hurt

But the sunflower yellow of new beginnings

What kind of picture are you painting?

I am drawing your absence and

It looks surprisingly like hope

❀

From,

The girl who gave you her heart without you realising

❀❀❀❀❀

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