You find that
you like gray, some
days – how it
achieves its say, perceives the cool array, subtly
holding sway,
managing in quiet
to convey its
calm vicissitudes, allegiances, proclivities – the ways
it beckons
you to stay and take
a seat and listen.
Rainy gray that glistens is a treat – though
can, of
course, entreat your tears
to reappear,
invoking fears, reopening despair, those cares
deriving from
the countless
recollections
of your catastrophic loves and flitting broken trysts –
your endless
undone lists. At times,
of course,
like this, gray can make you want to slit your wrists.
.
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