There is no poetry in this.

Since you’ve gone my life is colorless,

like the posters in the window at the haircutters’.

Their every shade of red has withered away,

and now they’re blue, and ugly.

I gave you all my “reds”, and held on to just the “blues”…

Why do I say this? Because sometimes

poetry is not available,

and you settle for a clever metaphor,

because it’s all you can have.

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