I had an image of you
made of an infinite palette
of possibilities
and no clear lines
With time I cut out
All that didn’t manifest,
colour or define
All that was absent or lacking
All that you didn’t say or do
The ground is littered
with anticipation shredded
and scattered
with no sense or pattern
But colours so dazzling
I cannot yet turn
to face the vague dull form
that remains as a stain
on an indifferent sky
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