The color of dust settling
The calm before the storm
The color of nothing, of feeling nothing, of running out of tears
The color of days when you're alone and you're lonely, when there is nothing to hope for and nothing to say.
The color after you've been too melancholy for too long and you're tired. Tired of feeling like the pain won't go away
The color of numbness, the calm after the storm
When the rain has washed away the edge and you're still hurting but quieter
And just a bit more unbearably.
The pitcher
There is a lot of talk about the glass
It is half full, or half empty in half hearted attempts to explain
An outlook on life
Me, I am not an optimist
I am not a pessimist
I do not look at the glass and think, how much more water plus I have
Or how much less
No, I do not look at the glass
And see how full
How empty
I know there is only half a glass of water
Me? I look for the pitcher
Me, I am not an optimist
I am not a pessimist
I am an idealist
And I know the world isn't perfect
But I also know that the world can change