When I was still in love
with love
the floors were black
and the walls were red;
I was tongue-tied.
I was smitten.
The world was made out of sunshine and cake
as long as my fingers lived in your hand.
You were water to me and love was the air,
but I looked in the sea
and a sea ghost looked back;
you were red and I was black,
and the future for us wasn’t looking too good.
The world was made
out of skunk cabbage paste,
the rainbow we rode left oil on our hands.
I recoiled at your touch,
I spit out your taste;
I didn’t know hate is just love on its knees.
That was so long ago.
A rainbow now will fit in my hand.
I breathe my own water and drink my own air.
I am no longer in love
with love;
I have wall-to-wall carpet and most of my fingers
and I paint the room any color I please.