The color black just isn’t dark enough
so I wear white instead
Like the hardest part to think about
is the part you loved the most
And the day you leave is auburn
the last moment of the evening’s deepest red
But the day you met is golden
heavy, so the sight of it seems real, and you a ghost
standing next to it, desolate, what’s left of you,
so much less than the most you’ve been.
And the person who made you this
you will never see them again.
they used to tell us-
since they were older-
that we had to listen to them?
I miss believing
that every day I’d be
the best I’d ever been.