What are we?
Joined together by darkness
Kissing in the pitch black
The two ends of a pole
Sometimes hot
Like your calloused palm on my skin
More times cold
Like the insults of a lover
But always lukewarm
Like strangers on a train
You say sparkly crystal words
I thought my ears would never hear
I tell you I love you
Like it doesn't hurt to be near
What truth does these words bear
When they're said under pretense
We're not even friends
Just acquaintances with memories
Memories which used to be so sacred
But time has been hostile
For I have been here before
And so have you
Both tainted by cruel honesty
Asking what we've done so wrong
To have our hearts pierced
The only difference is
You got to touch the stars
I couldn't even look at it without faltering
We're not friends
Only smiling strangers
Only dancing strangers
Only kissing strangers
Looking up the night skies
Though I think this is better
I'd rather watch from a distance
Than get too close to the fire again
And end up burning my wings
Like what once a stranger
Has done to me before.
YOU ARE READING
Black isn't a Color ➵ poems
Poetry❝ Black isn't a Color, rather, the inability of light to reflect off. ❞ A collection of poems from the confused soul of an antisocial adolescent, who doesn't know where they belong, and where they don't.
