Ode to Kris
They see black and white, but you see my true colors.
They see black and white, but you see my true colors.
RGB that's no longer me - I am CYMK today and forevermore.
Unique neon yellow bone saturated in toasted caramel HEX code.
Erotic rainbow melanin grin full of skittles taste love within.
Capture me in your PRIDE to shower me with your indigo kisses on top of the (255, 0, 0) pedaled sheets.
Orange Channel playing as we're making our own heat, so I'll be frank to your ocean.
Lilac and Lavender scent skin, you bring the colors to my being.
Overwhelmingly beautiful Amethyst, I want to be your Citrine.
Reveal our Bismuth love fairy tale when I gracefully
Slide this Blue Topaz on your finger.
About the Creator
Lukey Loose Leaf
Sappy, purpose-driven multimedia artist from Philly. Currently living in Jackson, Mississippi, USA. "Art is Life, so I live every day!" ~ Me 😁
215 🚌➡ 252 🚗➡ 704 ✈➡ 570 🚗➡ 601
To see more of my work visit AutuMedia.com. 🖱
Keep reading
More stories from Lukey Loose Leaf and writers in Poets and other communities.
Reaching Out
I promise her. I'd do anything for her. She's my mom. Even as Lanie and Deanna are flying home, Mom is scrappy fighting dying. She lays too still in that too-big bed with all the toasty white hospital blankets, in the south tower, at the broad end of a long slow-turning corner that delivers me again to her private room with the view she can't see through, with the beeping that tells us nothing new, and all these ice chips she can't swallow, and a flood of well-intentioned nurses who cannot do a damned thing all the same.
By Christy Munson3 days ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.