i cannot promise my heart would beat
in tune with what you yearn,
that it would pump and bleed
in your concocted crimson.
or fear and love and joy and pain
are crystal blue or green like rain.
for fear cannot be fear alone,
nor pain the blade cut to the bones.
but black or white the rest are two
connections whirled entwined.
the touch of love as what it seems
should be chromatographised.
and you'll find
that pain and joy and fear and all
are colours in that red
that spins my heart and emits the love
in rainbow coloured waves.