Pink

Pink Nope, not my colour But

Somehow I'm leaning closer to it

day by day.

Is that good or is it godawful?

Does it describe the harsh vehemence of emotions filled with neon ambiguity

or is it the sweet pink that glistens like a nestling's first smile?

Tell me

Familiarize me with this telltale of uneven thoughts that cross my mind like the waves at shore; and back.

I'll ask my heart these questions but won't get an answer

I reckon it's just too engrossed in its own dealings.

Pink could be the colour of the sky on that evening when I sin the most

It could be the tresses of a 'novel-like' persona, too good to be true whatsoever.

It isn't always unsullied

It has it's own hidden smears of blues and reds

Be that as it may:

This feeling isn't dark and gruesome; it's mellow and subdued.

It's

Pink.