My memory,
is a technicolor dancer,
spinning through the darkness
of my heart.

She pleads with me.
She whispers brightly colored pictures,
painted on the inside
of my mind.

I love to dance with her
to the tunes I choose,
but of late, I've been betrayed.
For now she whispers scenes
of you and me
and plans that we had made

It's bittersweet to see
the things she speaks -
of love, in colors bold.
When reason tells me
That those flames
Have long since burned out cold

I've thought to simply
Wait awhile, until the
colors fade.
But maybe painful beauty's
better than just
shades of gray.