• ivy___ 24w

    Does Van Gogh disease has a crush on me?

    So what we do with
    The memories
    Which are unable
    To make us feel something
    Those moody walls of
    Yellow and tainted grey colors
    We kept looking
    Impregnating it with
    Our forced-induced reasons?

    I used to think our brain
    Has some kind of duct
    Which bring in fresh air
    And spit it out
    The foul taste before
    We hanged on to say

    Something is not right,
    I'm missing out something,
    Or
    I'm losing it

    But this is not how it work
    And we kept looking at it
    Kept coming back
    To those stains
    Just to know
    If color has changed
    And if not
    Then we wait.

    Maybe this wait
    Make us move on too
    But we know
    Deep inside we know
    We have never forgotten to return
    To see those
    Moody walls
    Of yellow and tainted grey paint.