Seven days spectrum

Sunday morning

Cold coffee on the table

Chapped lips

Covered with crimson Red tint.

Walk outside

Like nothing happened last night.

Monday noon

Sitting on the bench

Having a marmalade

Shades on

To cover my swollen eyes.

Tuesday sunset

Amber dress

Yellow snickers

Yellow bag.

Down the street

Head turner as they call me

But inside I know

From this pale skin

I hide faded memory.

Wednesday afternoon

Tired as well

Staring at the horizon

And see nothing

But your eyes

As bright as the emerald

Then I haven't notice

That even my shadow left me

Like you did.

Thursday shade

Sky changed hue

Barefooted on sand

Leaves dances on waves

The sky is redder than ever

But I am feeling blue.

Friday night

From here I see

City lights sparkling.

The taste of whiskey

Lingers on my tongue

And all I wanted to do

Is to blend with these indigo walls.

Saturday's dawn

Lamppost flickers on the street

I am still awake

Escaping these ashed pain and inside bruised

By being numb

By turning into lilac's bush

From seven days

I lived as a paint

As colorful as the spectrum

And then you came

as a paint stripper.

2am colours