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.