Reds and Blues

Wherever I find myself,

the reds bleed into the blues.

I am trying to stay afloat,

while I let myself sink.

But where is the yellow?

Where is the gold?

Where is the bright color

that isn’t ever in the sky?

Like golden eyes in marble statues,

things people made

to try to be other than who they are.

That’s where that color is.

Purple I suppose,

opposite yellow.

Complementary,

visible but unreachable,

but I’ll still make it,

bleeding my reds into my blues.