After (old poetry)

once again,

i was colored stupid.

my rose glasses was shading the


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


do i still think of you?


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


you gave me. my first stop sign.

yet a part of me still misses the


toothy grin off your lying face.

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