Don't bring those sorrows to me and ask
Whether I prefer them in shades of grey
Sorrows aren't ever black and white, Coloured as they are in purple bruises
on tender skin of a newly born love,
And tinged in jaggery syrup of longing
Swirling hues of deathless desire.
Come give me your wine glass
And I'll show you
How to stain your sorrow.
Damn you love, dear love, sweet hurt,
neat pest, shaker of the ground beneath my feet
When great fires burn, sunlight is born.
Here, you burn and I light up.
Sometimes, the other way round.
All words be damned.
Damn you, dear love,
Come and Color my sorrow
In your sunset hues
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