Colour me blind

When I think of what her iris sees;

Black and nothing more.

When I think of both our irises;

intertwined by our genetic fate.

I think.

I think nothing but black.

Eye caps clenched so tight.

I see black. I hear in vivid colour.

Swimming in my ocean of her black,

I have nothing left but fear of my inevitable black.

Slap. I must return.

I Jolt my eye caps open

So that the many colours pour in.

Like acid to a clogged drain.

The colours of reality pour in.

Oh how they burn.

They sing about the wonder of colour.

They paint with vigour.

But all I want is my own black,

Eye caps held open.

The phone cries for my attention.

A friend wants to talk about her suspension.

But my iris can’t handle the burn.

I’m waiting for my black.

I reach for the buzzing screen.

The whites, the blues, and my absolute favourites, the greens.

None of them her black. My one day black.

The phone ceases to be mute.

And so my eye caps retrieve

back to their fateful pose;

sealed shut. For it’s all so inevitable.

I must learn to befriend my eventual black.

More of that vibrate.

Chuck it out the window.

I’m busy waiting for my black.

-

Walt Tab