Crying in Colour I’ve never seen you cry in blue, even now that you are free to wash your food with salt before consuming. You never cried in streams or drizzles either but as tiny glaciers of crystalized emotion, hoping I’d sit long enough for them to dissolve. You never tried to cry in colour – I told you once that was too simple. You cried for me in pages, in shards of teacups I marked up with lipstick. You cried them out like beads and left the day I came to love the search for them more than I loved decoding your sadness. ✱✱✱
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