Red, Yellow and Green

You can write about something and still not write about it at all. The proof’s right here:


Set against

the glaring white of her head,

like a bloodstain, repulsively red,

I remain undead.


The universe is aglow,

ever so mellow,

for in a cafe

down the street,

a fine old fellow

has his head buried

in a book,

outworn and yellow.


Always too broken,

never not green.

Out of the picture,

wiped off the screen.

Only girl in the kingdom,

still not the queen…

Wow, how dull her life had been

before caffeine!


Photo by Scott Webb from Pexels

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