Blue paint stings

the edges of my fingertips.

I hte te clor.

I hate it. I hate how it

reminds me of your eyes.

your hair. Your smile.

Your faded blue lips.

The way you would laugh.

I hate it because sky blue

reminds me of how you would

blush a lighter shade.

I hate how there are so

many damn shades for it.

Why can't there only be

one? Why can't there only

be one Azura? An Azura that

will never leave.

The paint has gone dry

and so has my memory.

I'm a fading canvas and

there isn't anything that

can bring me back to life.