366 Poems: October 21st, 2016


My hands glow red

and hold their fire,

burnt with love and lost desire.

Then they turn

from blue to green,

quenched by calm and hope serene.

Fingers black,

my thoughts attack

and scratch and cry and don’t look back

until the dark scabs

fade to white:

a new angel to fly tonight.

I do not care

what my hands hold

so long as they hold you and fold

in the pockets

of my blue jeans

and prove that there’s magic in me.

“Mr. Rainbow Colours”


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