Him by: Rose Dobson, mixed media, 2016.
Untitled
by: enlischo
One sun fried afternoon, over a cup of tea
As usual, my companion recounted her recent tryst
Unmoving, unwilling to hurt, I kept my eyes level and my mouth silent
Ripple upon ripple, her tolerance at last breached
She asked, she prodded, she accused,
my unfaithfulness prevalent in the halfheartedness I showed.
‘No, dear friend, I’m just callous.’
‘Show me your support, at least.’
Bitter smile, I told her the blankness of my mind
was filled with concern one day she would be hurt.
Had I been her friend for a mere thirty days
she would hurl the hot liquid into my face.
I asked her favorite color.
To her answer, ‘red like rose,’ I wanted to know another thing.
Would she like if her love was red?
With a nod, her smile barely hidden,
Blowing off the steam from Ceylon tea,
Letting out the harmless sigh I had long perfected,
I let my voice trace the colors of the rainbow,
Red like blood as a certain suicidal rejected captain.
Hopeless, as black as the love of a father.
Innocent the name of white, leaving both with nothing but pain.
Deep blue sea washed ashore a perpetual sorrow.
Yellow hay belly betrayal.
Greenish veins pumped jealousy.
Then came satin purple, carrying the burden of age old wisdom.
All of those, my mother the witness.
Untrue none of them.
The question was
when will the shade of love bleed out from its definite range
and turn every once sweet nothing into a lifelong scar?
*Editor’s Note: The author of this poem is not a native English speaker.