Color

They are the things we never see,

The things hidden right before our eyes,

They are the dreams of the past,

The memories of the future. 

The are of black, white, and blooming in color.

The are the things we never hear,

To close to home, we forget what to feel. 

They are the moments long past, 

They are the songs that are yet to be sung. 

They are life, death, and blooming in color.

They are the flavors without any taste,

They are only of salt that touches a wound,

They are the tears that we have shed

And the laughter that extends until our end. 

They are smiles, tears, and they are blooming in color. 

It is a variety of emotions,

Knowing that such a state exists

A state where you are between numb and not. 

It is such a interest, knowing that 

Our lives are mostly hidden. 

They only see what you show.

The rest is just blooming in color. 

-E.