borderline

black and white and shades of

gray, i stare at the ceiling for hours

hypnotized by the girl i see

.

i could sit on the edge all day

memorizing the patterns in

sorrow, artistic or otherwise

.

to crave the taste of silver is

to breathe, i shudder to think why

as the walls slowly lose their color

.

it's when the violin starts to lose it's meaning

that i can no longer remember,

sitting cold alone, waiting for the sun