I saw the colour of your lips in the early morning;
You returned home as I left the house.
The shade of your eyes filled my coffee
That I drank, hesitantly thinking of you.

The ink of your tattoos wrote my morning poem:
The blackest black spilling onto the page.
The colour of your skin lay on the walls in the hallway.
My fingers trailed them like they would on you.

The colour of your hoodie was wrapped around me
When I put on my scarf to brave the cold.
I saw the whites of your eyes as I stared at a screen;
Waiting for a message from you.

And my ache of loneliness was the colour of your smoke
That I bet you're blowing away, right now.
And my lust for you burns like the ashes that glow,
But you cast them aside, like you do me.