your favorite color
was a yellow flicker
from a British lighthouse
all your childhood memoirs
carry that honey hue

lemon smoothies
with sunday summer picnics
jubilant ukelele
and narcotic pillow forts

Your body is a glass vase,
but all the flowers inside have passed
a little decayed
crunchy leaves accumulating
over the murk

and you worry worry worry
who stays fond of a worn image ?

but, you're not alone
let's grow gray together
in feuillemort