by Pulkita Anand

The colour of the files matches the money
No, the colour of the person matches the money
Nope. We can change everything with money, honey.
White lies are scattered everywhere
I stepped and tripped on the broken promises
The feelings are settled with the dust
A slice of yellow entered my room and
I mixed it with the melancholy
The green of trees is not growing inside my heart
The future blue is calling from the balcony
The red of the present is reeking on the floor
In the books, on the pictures a sepia of memory
Is drifting down
Do you remember the pink of the summer evening?
When we walked away from life
The map fluttered in a flurry
The nouns and the adjectives are running
With broken grammar
The lavender on the body is turning black
A rainbow of hope dissolved in time
The amber of fire licked long and left ashes
Disturbed geography of the history
Now, it is coloured with sadness and silence

Image by Jess Loiterton via Pexels