Colors of Despair

I guess you can’t put a colour to despair—
Not really.
What is despair, but a desperate dream? A dream has no colour.
But if it did, I’d think it were
A deepest grey, like fallen tears of angels,
Like their silky ashen wings.
Or maybe,
A crystal blue, the single tear
Of a love without words,
Of a home without love.
I see no blacks, no deepest darkest void—
A void is calm and peaceful, in a way.
But despair…

I see a silent forest,
In my heart—
No birds are left to
Give their mournful songs,
No sunbeams dance, no simple chilling breeze.
But silence, oh
The silky, velvet silence emptiness past words
I see only silence.

Despair is a solace, a cradle of lies
That you tell to yourself as you close up your eyes to the word…
Nothing but a beating heart,
A screaming soul…

I see it now.
Despair has no colour, lest it be snow white.
An emptiness can have no sound, and so an empty heart may have no hue.

White is the colour of my heart today…
Perhaps tomorrow it will be stained with grey



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