She.

She was her

Very own eligibility-

An emotion

A question

A colour

All of love

And flying sorrow.

Sometimes she was happiness-

Concrete,

Solid joy of clouds dancing like 

Birds against infidelity

Of one and all.

She was the red of fury,

Her face burning with the warmth of the scarlett sun at dusk.

She was the pink of subtle blush

Kissing her face 

Before I could.

She was the black of darkness

That her hair melted down to

Every night

When she undressed on my naked body.

She was the white of our pieces of peace

Bound together

With infallible strings.

She was the ink of my loins

And the pulp of my emotions.