VIBGYOR

Our hell is violet hued
and like electric fence,
face pressed against.

Our bodies get bruised,
indigo leaks onto bone
we can't touch, we must heal alone.

As a child i dreamt in blue,
deep locked secrets under oceans
once earnest dreams rust, into silly notions.

My discomfort is reflected under your eyes,
those sickly shades of green blend
and your hollow face grows harder to defend.

Each yellow lace morning
we race to get through, but only commence
a burdened curtain of silence.

You are made for summertime
orange thick nights,
of sitting close together under dim lights.

As i walk away I'm concerned about us,
I used to think hell was buried deep and bright red,
but i look inside at my wounds and realize i'm living it instead.