It is ironic, yet fitting,

To paint sorrow inshades of blue.

Blue for the countless tears that I’ve cried,

And for the sky that you flew off to.

But would it be appropriate,

To paint my heart pitch black?

Black for the night that swallows the sky,

For the moments we’ll never get back.

Black and blue, that rings a bell…

The old familiar hues.

The shades of a bruised and beaten heart,

The colors of me without you.