~1 min read • Updated May 27, 2025
I have drifted so far That I no longer remember The place of that damned canvas.
It was sacred.
The last remnant of that colorless day Drank a liquor of resemblance, And its kiss carried The ashen scent Of the barren wasteland It had become.
That desert— Where I had found her, Red as a pomegranate Against the gray sands.
I hesitated at the final kiss. It did not happen, And I— I remained the only color in this city.
Now, I am the monochrome king of this wasteland, Where my only amusement Is dancing With the gray-painted women Across the street.
I have forgotten colors, too.
And I have grown so beautiful That even the devils sleep beside me.
And I do not remember. Not a thing.
Just like them.
It was sacred.
The last remnant of that colorless day Drank a liquor of resemblance, And its kiss carried The ashen scent Of the barren wasteland It had become.
That desert— Where I had found her, Red as a pomegranate Against the gray sands.
I hesitated at the final kiss. It did not happen, And I— I remained the only color in this city.
Now, I am the monochrome king of this wasteland, Where my only amusement Is dancing With the gray-painted women Across the street.
I have forgotten colors, too.
And I have grown so beautiful That even the devils sleep beside me.
And I do not remember. Not a thing.
Just like them.
Written & researched by Dr. Shahin Siami