gray

i have run out of colors.
the pen has run dry, the paint
hardened like unfelt desire.
i stand here naked
like an untouched canvas
like a tree in winter
like words without meaning.
my edges have blurred,
my outline gray, smudged
by the brush of your thumb.
and i would rub out these lines
erase the haze of the rising dawn
but for the glow that remains
in the shape of these cones.

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About ky

Poet. Photographer. Writer. Goddess. View all posts by ky

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