a year full of life

the color of your sadness is fake smiles and broken promises

did you tell the moon about it? how you held his heavily weighted hand in the sunlight and kissed each fingertip in an attempt to mask his pain?

did you tell the moon about how you both would make tiny homes out of every single sunset [building small little infinities in each other's palms] and then burn it all up with every firefly that set pathways in the sky?

if i were to choose a color of your sadness, it would be his stained lips wearing a soft smile - one meant to be sweet but tastes like contempt, which was most nights with the two of you [masked smiles of grief dripping of all too forced love - enough to drown you both].

if i painted you two a new color [built you both a new portrait] one with yellows like van gogh's sunflowers or brilliant blues like the starry night, would you start dreaming of seaside cottages on the other side of the ocean again? would you trust that happiness is something built, rather than found [and that sometimes some people aren't meant to build a happily ever after together, but those who are take time]? would you ever look at him with those same loving eyes you stared into his with on the night you both watched the stars fall hand in hand [the day you all promised forever but wished on never saying goodbyes]?