Poetry

Achromatic

I rode a motorcycle this morning,
something I usually do.
When the sun hits my face
I closed my eyes,
something I barely do.

Opening them would be a surprise,
one thing I rarely get.
Everything was colorless
but I was sparkling,
something I never get.

It was all an illusion though,
and you were there.
Achromatic like everyone else
but I was sparkling,
and I’m always by myself.

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