colours of the storm

You're wearing blue.
I must be seeing things again.

In my car,
I drove past
a crow
who lifted its head
to watch me go by,
the red mass of
meat and fur
at its feet
cooling in the
summer rain.

You're wearing red.
I must be seeing things again.

I drove out
of Deep Cove
as the sky fell
upon the streets;
there is a certain
darkness
here
when it rains
that reminds you
of that empty space
left beside your heart.
A darkness that
lingers
even though
it drains to the sea.

I want you back.
But that never is quite enough,
is it?

If only love was truly blind,
I wouldn't have to find myself
seeing you all the time.