I like the colour blue,

I was the colour blue,

Melancholy sorrow,

dreams and solitude.


In a world where most were yellow,

I chose to remain blue.

I refused to fall victim to this sickness,

refused to let it taint my hue.


She was a fine shade of cyan when we met,

her serene colour reminded me of calm oceans.

She had beauty in her sadness,

her mind withheld sunken treasures,

that I so badly wanted to seek.


Days went by and her colour began to change,

Shades of yellow began to flow through her veins.

She thought it was happiness,

I knew it was tragedy.


I never liked yellow,

I detested it.

But I knew she still had Cyan in her heart,

hoping that with every beat,

this yellow will be replaced.


With time I realised,

Maybe she wasn’t Cyan anymore but

her soul was Celadon, Shamrock, Jade –

more than a stain of yellow.


She will always be my Cyan.

She will be the closest thing to yellow

I’d ever come to love.


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