You

I think of you in black and white,
in muted colours of grey
in grainy shots of silent films
and torn edges of vintage stills.

I think of you in technicolor
bursts of sunlight, blinding rays
dancing hues of honeydews
streaks of vibrant pink haze.

I think of you in endless reels
of love, hate, hate, love, love
a roller coasting loop of love me
and love me nots.

I think of you.

You.

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I write to live, or live to write. Whichever it is, writing is my life.

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