The shade my death wore.

The shade my death wore

Written by Tanya Singh

Appearance of detainees on the foothold of a hill,

That was shot in the musk laughter of a fatal night,

The prison was our only heart,

And not for one had I cared for colours,

 

The lines from one end licking the icing of the cake,

That turned Monique black when our hands met

The bastille of our hopes that jumped from the very hill,

I had pushed myself down before,

Have you had any luck before,

Trying to avenge your self from your self- inflicted death,

When the only auburn of the blood paled in our hands,

And prison bars were all we could see.

 

And not for one had I cared for colours,

Transparent was my favourite, like the colour of

her eyes in the dark of the shadows chained,

and her hands fairest in the caring of the lamppost,

and her smile was my last and the only red flower,

in her hand was black like the blood that covered me,

moments before the hills below embraced my mortal

wounds from my death 3 days ago,

 

and the only remuneration was her goodbye,

 

and my transpicuous tears in the crystalline wine glass,

 

 the only colour that didn’t abandon me.

The shade my death wore.

 

– Also Published at Voices of Youth (http://www.voicesofyouth.org/en/posts/the-shade-my-death-wore)

 

 

 

 

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