By Mayukh Dutta
A lake or a sea,
Dark, violet, sky.
I try to survive.
Paintings in the bin, throwing away everything.
I see you got a new palette.
Waiting to be used, getting dry everyday.
This feeling of illness
Does it have to do with the fact that I am in a box.
Does it have to do with the fact that I am bluest of them all.
I don't have choices to make
I just sit here and wait.
For, I am just a colour in a box and I am yours for life.
How many waterfalls do you plan to paint
before you lose consciousness and faint.
Accept this confession I know its pretty late.
You probably will stick to your fate.
Dear misery, could you throw me away when you are back from your date.
Remembering the times that I used to be stuck to your chin and you'd be laughing.
These days you don't hesitate when you wash me away.
Silent barks,
don't leave marks,
she's only interested in the phony's remarks.
With nothing to do I sit and wait in this so called useful box.
I am just a colour and I am still yours for life,
but that doesn't matter because blue can never be the colour of your love life.