colour.

don’t ask me for my colours,
you’ll only tell me
they are shadows,
shades, appearance.
fuck perception.

polaroid sunglasses
mean you can’t see
through my trademark
sarcasm and scorn.
no connection.

it is a typical pattern;
i confess my sins
and bare my ugliness.
but you smile; you’re lost
in affection.

i tried to tell you
i won’t – i can’t – pretend;
this is false love.
you land stunned and betrayed.
base confusion.

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