A poem #4 – Pale pink walls

Pale pink walls.

I paint over the cracks in our relationship, but the paint merely fills,
and not long goes by before they reappear in our pale pink walls.

We wash forlornly together in a dull shade amongst the sheets,
no passion, no lust, no vigour, her heart no longer beats.

The truth is,
We discolour one another, for I am plain white and she is ruby red,
and no matter how much I paint, she longs for other colours in her bed.

JP Collins

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