Sapphirism

I have so much hurt inside of me, but nothing comes out  when I open my mouth.  All my tears have formed clouds and keep raining in my mind, a groundless sky. The sun doesn't come out for the longest time. In this flood, I feel parched. Photo by  Ian Turnell  from  Pexels

I had a bucket of paint with a rag And I thought I could squeeze it Little by little Until the colours that remained Were the colours of you. But your dynamic lustre's Like a dazzling magnesium ribbon Or a streak of dancing lightning, And I can't discern— I can't peg any colours on you. You're a moving picture, An inscrutable mystery— My fingers are aching to figure you out. Photo by  David Waschbüsch  from  Pexels

tight melancholy tucked in my heart, tired tongue tucked in my mouth. you wait for a quip that will never come. repressed anger bubbles on my fingertips, a cauldron brewing at the back of my throat, a churning ocean of acid to char your pink flesh. but I shove it down to the depths of my soul, it's ok. endure. some other time. Photo by  Juanjo Menta  from  Pexels