Burnt Confetti.

Going about the day, she felt gray.
Chewing was a task, breathing too.
Stirred herself some cold coffee,
To make the beat feel cozy.

Wondering if he was thinking about her,
Missing him when lighting once ‘one & only’.
By the window, where they stood.
On the couch, where they laid, watching tv.
On the floor, where she oiled his tresses, after a long day.

She missed the tingling soft finger touch that annoyed him before.
She missed the sloppy cheek kisses that annoyed her before.
She missed losing in little games.
She missed sneaking in while he showered.

Going about the night, she felt black.
Sipped whiskey neat mixed with tears.
Her gut screamed with pain.
The doc thought it was alcohol, but put a shot in the vein.

Going about midnight, she felt white.
An hour’s sleep, with the panic attack gone.
Her gut accepted the agony.
The friends thought it was just vain.

Going about the day, she felt gray.
She swore no love now. To be a fucking frozen lady.
She swore personal space now. To make a fucking life out of her job.

Going about the day, she sighs, with a bit of dismay, cause,
It was Subtle and Sexy, the vibe.
It was Sweet and Hot, the comfort.
Yet, blew up.

Rainbow, Smoky, Monochrome, Burnt, Confetti. 🎉

-uk

Originally published at https://medium.com on March 27, 2021.