CHROMATOGRAPHY.

Please love, do not ask me how I am,
You don't want to see so many colours in just one eye.

I'm lilac and everything confusing,
Like an old book smell on disinfected hospital beds.

I'm clueless white,
Only if you ask whether I love you.

I'm the blotched pink and half green child he raped,
Just more blotched and less pink.
And I still hate green.

I'm at once, the blackness in beggars' eyes that searches for light
And the brightness that tearfully runs away.

Look around you, I'm the rain coloured hope that took their child.

I'm the red throbbing in my mother's headache when he hit her.

I have always been the uncertainty that yellow brings.

Maybe I pray, that if what we love makes who we are,
I'd love you, to paint me into not hurting, in black or brown.