We were in the presence of a
dying lemon sun and
he was my baby blue sky.
I tried to convince him to stay
by giving him
every piece of me:
I traced his darker, indigo, bruises
with burgundy lipstick covered kisses.
I turned corners of his steel blue speckled skin,
shades of celeste with my beige hands.
I shimmered his favorite features
with the golden highlights of my hair.
I washed the blush from my cheeks
into his deepest shadows.
I hoped that if knew he had me,
he'd find a reason to stay.
But instead I turned my love
into a bittersweet sunset.
He left with every piece of me.
I had made him complete
by tearing apart the the puzzle of me.
I'm now an achromatic mess.
A display of voids filled with grey,
like cement used to quickly fill
sidewalk holes.
All because I wanted him to love me.