After (old poetry)

once again,

i was colored stupid.

my rose glasses was shading the

                                                     RED

that was your true blue.

i wasn’t prepared for the crash but recovered quickly because i saw it all happen yesterday on black with a splash of

                                                       WHITE

do i still think of you?

yes.

its like a child remembering their first thunderstorm.

thier first moment they knew they were scared of the dark.

it was there all along but it maximize in size.

i’m at the aftermath.

i missed the action, the

                                                       RED

you gave me. my first stop sign.

yet a part of me still misses the

                                                        WHITE

toothy grin off your lying face.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *