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.


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