Still life
Turning my orange days grey, that’s what you do.
Flicking my sun over to a moon, like in a child’s picture.
And you make it cold. I need a blanket made of foil.
like the stuff you’d wear around your head.
Because you must be signalling other planets.
Because you can’t handle things.
You take my sun, stars and whole galaxy.
Because you need love so you engulf my all.
While I’m sitting here in a kitchen of still life.
In a fruit bowl, in a glass bowl. My orange greyed with you by my side.
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