and i sit

my fingers grappling

purple stained from the


of my feather pen

and i watch

as you work the room

the way you do

& what is a beautiful face like yours

doing in an unravelled mind like mine?

and i stare

my face upturned

monotonous and blank

the way it always is

and i speak so infrequnetly

i may as well not speak at all

& you don’t tell me

you love me

but you don’t have to

a splash of orange

in the sky

sets a dreamy atmosphere

i trace over my canvas

and my pencil

and your skin

and i sit

my fingers cramped from capturing

& why does the silence

sound different

when i am with you?

my mind tingles

the kind of noise

that isn’t noise at all

& i can’t sleep

& i dream in colour

you are my favourite colour

and you splash over the edges

Published by featherquills

i am a misfit and a wanderer, captivated by the mysteries of the universe and the secrets of humanity.

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