224
Poetry
The Colour of Love
Deeti Gupta
I try to imagine
The colour of love.
It seems simple enough
As I sift through hues in my head;
Most people say red.
And maybe there's a reason
pain and love seem the same colour,
both blindingly bright.
But perhaps red fits lust better:
A fleeting passion that burns away.
And love is what remains
Steadfast through the fire.
I think of lilac,
Soft shades of pink and blue,
Like two puzzle pieces
Falling into place.
But love isn't meant to be,
It's not a perfect fit,
And lilac doesn't feel
Like a home to keep two hearts safe.
Love may be turquoise,
As passionate as the sea,
Yet rare to find
And taking years to build.
It's flawed and imperfect,
Yet warm and inviting.
But it's formulaic,
And love is anything but that.
I wonder if love is a colour in itself;
A colour that can show
the warmth of our hands together
Along with the coldness of being apart.
But then I realise,
Love is a spectrum of colours:
Sometimes it's boring old grey
Or a scalding red.
With the softness of lilac,
And the boldness of turquoise,
The warmth of yellow,
And the freshness of green,
With the brightness of pink,
And the sadness of blue,
Love is a person:
Love is you.