The smell that lingers upon me fades away,
Along it carries a fading fascination.
As the eyes draw towards other objects in the horizon,
The colour lifts off the skin that it had earlier stained.
Exchanges of mutual admiration,
Refurbishes into mutual acceptance,
Of the faults and the follies and the pain,
Amongst acceptance of the lesser life,
Of a future full of probable disdain.
Or is it me that fades?
From rationality and the freedom of space,
Is it my vision that is passing through a hue?
That colours everything to distinct red and blue.
Even if help comes my way, unless it be from you,
Pointlessness will be bred through and through.
I see you,
But is what I see true?
Or is it the hue?
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