When you try to think of me, am I a blank canvas to your memory?
Have you wiped clean the traces of my existence?
Do I stand in stark white contrast to your love,
who brings you splashes of rainbow,
flings the droplets of paint
with reckless abandon?
I take my time,
I sketch carefully,
but maybe you don’t understand the whole picture,
You see only the broken pieces.
Observe closely, and my world has color too —
it’s bursting with it — but the concept is abstract to you.
I could outline everything in glittering gold —
add shades of the brightest light to your eyes and to your life.
I only wish you gave me what I so willingly gifted you:
a chance.