Your Favorite Color
I have never seen my heart
Crumble the way it has,
The way it's succumbed to
The loss of your smile.
Yet it faintly remembers the sound
Of your voice,
Or the length of your stride,
But it burns as it pumps -
That which is reminiscent of
Your favorite color.
If God is present in the wind, then
There you might be in the base of a rose.
There you might be in an infant's cheek.
Though I am not fit for the lowest of things,
I long for your love to inhabit my soul
Then it might glow darker than the angry sun.
I can't remember how you said my name
But I cringe at the sight of your favorite color
That which resides in and through my veins
And I pray that I won't bleed tonight.
Crumble the way it has,
The way it's succumbed to
The loss of your smile.
Yet it faintly remembers the sound
Of your voice,
Or the length of your stride,
But it burns as it pumps -
That which is reminiscent of
Your favorite color.
If God is present in the wind, then
There you might be in the base of a rose.
There you might be in an infant's cheek.
Though I am not fit for the lowest of things,
I long for your love to inhabit my soul
Then it might glow darker than the angry sun.
I can't remember how you said my name
But I cringe at the sight of your favorite color
That which resides in and through my veins
And I pray that I won't bleed tonight.
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