WITHOUT COLOUR
it's not real
our faces never met
nor the shadows cross
it was affection untrue
i had not made her a banquet
neither felt attraction's touch
it was imaginative beauty
product of hyperactive mind
it crippled i only me
it was a fairlytale
written on slate in tablets
glowing in false flame
my world grown dark
in the jaws of extinction
my framework lying in comma
she hugs and kisses him
another man my successor
and leap triumphant past
in my sight my tears
my life squeezes in
and falls inwards and out
she ruined my life
fictious beauty of my dreams
graphic imaginative affection
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