Salt Line

Your stand is tall, unshaken —

in colors I have never seen before.

Are you from this town

where color matters if you’re bright and true?

I met you once, by the river’s edge.

The salt eroded my fingers

as you grew more blue.

You once said:

If there are monsters in men, then I am green.

Seven years later,

the clown still stands tall —

wordless now,

in black and blue.

Tell me:

is this the life you truly wanted?

After you painted me red and blue,

your town turned purple and blue.

But mine —

mine is full of color:

a garden I grew from the tears

you left behind in my room.