Grey is the feel of his worn, tattered t-shirt

He had on the time he couldn't help but blurt

That maybe he might like me, he thinks

And the grey of my esteem flushed a little pink

The grey thud of my converse as they thumped to the floor

When I opened my body for him to explore

And the grey middle ground when our skin finally touched

My light and his dark seemed unique in my clutch

And grey was the murmur of his rough, velvet voice

As he held me and told me that I was his choice

Lit up the grey matter in the edges of my mind

And the passion of colors felt like the Fourth of July

But color is temporary and grey lasts forever

Infinity and always quickly became never

And grey was the numbness I felt when he said

His feelings for me had just come up dead

When the grey days wrap me in their sick embrace

I imagine his lips and picture his face

And warm color fills my thoughts in every space

But I blink and its gone without a trace.