Roy G. Biv

It's important to note that you were awake while the sea behind you fed color to a wind that would otherwise taste bland because yesterday she was busy shooting stars with her reddish tones and they fell one by one onto your hand shadowing the orange crests as they crashed down onto the scattered yellow sand. It's important to note that your eyes were open and enveloped by the light of the night, the light of a green space that tends to lend it's hand to the deteriorating masses of the blue bruises on your fingertips. She painted it with the muses that infiltrate the indigo infatuation with which you scratch the surface of her violent violet skin.