I am someone who confuses boundaries
between black and white
between lover and friend.
I, was
Sharp-tongued
determined to define
my world in clarified hues.
Then I met you.
I, became
red-handed
guilty of painting,
blurry portraits of our love.
Me, the sun,
round-cheeked and laughing.
You, my blue, blue moon.
I beame,
syrup of the stars
pour myself
onto you.
I stumbled,
tripping on questions,
others left behind:
“Where do I end
And you begin?”
One day,
white bone
powder coughs,
that hacked my throat away.
You were gone,
and I had sucked you dry.
I was,
lost
swirling in a storm
of ten shades of grey.
Jana Carrey
March 27, 2004
