Peripheral Sight Line

I fell to you, black and white with technicolor hair like a circus presentation of emotion- You were there. I lifted you, gold and bronze with medal and shine like a trophy won impossible to me, when you were mine I slept on you, pearl and grizzled heat with a dream on banks of waking like a long forgotten whisper of a promise, still forsaken undeveloped, but complete I wished for you, silver limply bit the air with fingers stained in white like a photograph of contrast fallen past the line of sight to be popped in color particles I wished, and you were there.