Colourful Decades by Eli Oko

 He thinks he knows me 

He thinks he truly understands how my mind works 

How reality is from my perspective 

But he will never know

I cry from my heart. 

The veins behind my eyes burst before they even water

And the colour of my eyes change 

I see red when I peer into my soul 

I see splattered blood 

I see green guilt pouring over the edges 

He sticks around because my past is although grey – a past, nonetheless 

But he doesn’t know that it follows me like black shadows

It haunts me at night and comforts me like every disturbed thing does

I often see blue and fall because I can’t walk

And the things that pick me up are pink and scare me 

Like the first time I saw pink 

I’m afraid to love because my admiration for things is usually so twisted 
He thinks he knows me…

But he knows only what words can explain 

He must enter me to see the deepest colours 

I own the roughest art between my thoughts 

I can’t share them because even I can’t interpret the purple, the browns and the oranges
I pray he never needs to know me …

I pray he never needs to truly understand the reality I visualise everyday 

Because as white spaces envelop my future and we attempt to create new art 

He might realise that every colour we plan to use killed me decades ago

Every colour we try, might only be shades of the real thing

That maybe, when we mix colours it stirs up a war between the past and the future 
And that maybe, he will regret wanting to know me…

But if he can just hold to that illuminating strand of hope

I believe we’re going to hold up our canvas to the world 

I believe we will hang it on the main wall in our family home

And say “maybe, we will never truly know each other…”

But this, this is our colourful decades. Enjoy. 

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