My favourite colour is his brown skin the blue sky
Before me, my childhood stands,
A colonial entwined with anarchic vines-
Maturing realizations.

What is love? An itch to set your house on fire?

What colour are the walls?
Not brown. Not blue.

I swim to a blurry reflection casted onto the pool
Looking up, I glance at him
Erected into the sky,
Chest hairs curling and tightening around his necklace.

What is romance? Poetry for the aflame?

What colour is the door?
Not brown. Not blue.