Her Colors

Her eyes are as black as her soul—

She dyes her hair the midnight blue hues that you only glimpse at midnight on cloudless nights.

She paints her nails the ashy grey of the smoke from her cigarettes.

She has lips that are the dark red that runs through her veins, staining all her wine glasses and the cheeks of lovers past and future.

She has skin like fresh snow, pale and fragile and cold.

But when she writes, she's a rainbow.