there are these white lines throughout my hair, tiny strands
mixed within the black and i feel like i am some coloring book
that has no ink, no reason to exist


the strands twisted into ringlets from being held tight around my fingers,
my fingers becoming white, my hands becoming spears
poking through the ringlets


if i could chop it all off, i think i might
i think it might be the last thing i do before.


the colors never mattered, the way you called me beautiful
but then went and fucked some random girl
never mattered


because you know i sit here and wait,
i wait for all the black to finally turn white and i
wait for you to believe


but


i know better


and


before it all ends in some twist of fate like my ringlets,
i will color the rest in blue


and i will forget you.


06/06/2016
Posted on 06/06/2016
Copyright © 2025 Ava Blu

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Uriel Tovar on 07/09/16 at 12:11 AM
to forget that which inscribed in our very arteries.