It’s time to scrape my palette clean
I won’t be painting rainbows again.
I’m going back to black and white
and subtle shades of grey.
I will dip my brush in turpentine
until all trace of color is gone.
My skill at painting beauty
is better left to lines on a page.
Black and white for clarity
on a grey canvas is all I need.
Color just confuses me
and makes the words harder to see.
I don’t understand the colors
they are too much for me to take.
I prefer the simple light and dark
the unblurred wrong and right.
This room has been filled with red for days
a raw and bleeding heart.
An anger and a frustration
the will never be expressed.
It was blue for a time and I mistook
the cool for comfort and safe.
It is actually cold and hard
like water when it freezes.
The yellow I saw as the warmth of the sun
is now just emotionless and stale.
It’s unpleasant and uncomfortable
like a dusty desert day.
Green was by far the worst of all
I was dazzled by its shine.
The twinkle, the shimmer, the mystical eye
but it has another side.
Jealousy and envy come in green as well
shade and tone often blend.
Making it hard to truly see
what color any of it is.
I prefer my shadows, my ghosts, my whispers
although they haunt me as they always have.
At least I know them all by name
and know exactly what to expect.
Adventure is not all it’s cracked up to be
nothing ventured, nothing gained, I know.
But also no more loss to bear
confusion made to feel.
All of my patterns come in the colors
that I have left here on this floor.
The soft curving lines that lead me astray
I will never understand.