If you were a red and I was a blue-grey, will you set it on fire and let this passion burn away?
Will I rain down droplets of hope or will it be despair?
Is your fire a flaming torch or is it a dying flame?
Is it an ember in the ashes or a lost cry, flail?
Am I the tear hesitating to drop down and away?
Is this too cliche?
It is, yeah.
Do I care?
I do; I always do.
And that is the problem.
Ps. It doesn’t rhyme, I know; but it has hidden meanings, I guess.