Stained

You have stained me

in your singular hue

 

my eyes steeped in yellow

my lungs in blue

 

my senses seem to be removed

without you here.

 

You have stained me

my laugh and my tears

 

with streaks of wild daffodils

and lonely cold cups of tea

overflowing with nicotine.

 

 

You have stained me

like old coffee and teeth

so much that it hurts

to smile.

 

In the early morning light

my skin seems transparent

and my hands are feeble

and slow.

 

It seems sometimes

 

when I think about what I’m doing

 

that I’m not actually doing anything at all

because I’m not doing it with you. 

Author's Note

Let me know what you think.