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Poetry: Color

"Black"

Black is secret hidden things
That disappear at night.

"Black, that's a good color," he said,
Standing in my shadow.
"It's the color of my past,"
He whispered in my ear.

Black is under my bed
And hiding in my closet.

"It's just me," he said,
Leaning over my shoulder.
Black are his empty promises
That take the color from his eyes.

Black is the last one on the shelf
That no one knows is there.

It's the color of his blood
And the steel that makes him bleed.
"Just trust me," he said,
Covered by the darkness.

Black no longer scares me,
Though I fell for him before.
I turned off the lights,
But there was nothing more.

Just in case though, please,
Would you close my door?

Learn more about this author, Terra L. Fletcher.
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Poetry: Color

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Poetry: Color

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