My Colorless Rainbow

Alina Caldera, The Gazes of Despair. Charcoal pencil, 2023

 

By Devin Taylor

Past my pretty white frame embellished with gold,

 coated with a clear shiny glaze,

lies a complexion that entices our souls deepest curiosities.

 

In this world

where your receptors can only taste the faintest hues of my gray,

you can hardly recognize the smell of agony within my rot.

 

And your screams can erode the flesh upon my ear drums,

but your hands will never bear the burden

 of bandaging my colorless wounds.

 

Even if you could trace the vessels of my decaying corpse a thousand times,

you would still never see that red

you so desperately desire.

 

 I fear 

that my receptors have failed us both; 

 my fragile frame could never withstand such colorful anger.

 

I can feel as you beat my cartilage thin,

but I’ll never bear witness to the indigo bruises

that stain your satin knuckles.

 

I cannot stand the stench of agony rotting me from within,

but I’ll never know what it feels like 

to see the life slowly drain from a pair of crisp hazel eyes.

 

And even though your receptors have failed

and given you a tasteless, odorless life,

your pain is still a beautiful array of color.

 

That beyond my pretty white frame embellished with gold,

coated with a clear shiny glaze,

I cannot comprehend.