We receive no love when the heart withers away. So does our confidante.

Expressions of désespoir

Written by Tanya Singh

We don’t see colours,

We have  only seen how graves sparkle,

With dullness and depth in despair,

The french expressions of désespoir, 

That meet our gleaming negation of hope,

We don’t see colours,

Not since our recuperating bereavement,

And we love it more what we have lost,

Like the jewels from a set now rendered incomplete,

And another piece quite doesn’t fit the same way,

We don’t seek colours,

But only the painter who betrothed us to sorrow,

.

.

.

He left to paint the dull sparkle in the grave,

We haven’t seen colours since.

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