YELLOW by Rike Rettschlag

I can still see the sickly yellow of your bathroom 
I'd go there to be alone—I think the architect knew 
that it was a perfect place for storing my feelings 
because yellow looks like the absence of you.

It didn't have windows, but still looked like sunshine 
and like those daylight lamps trying to be spring 
was supposed to fix your winter, make you feel fine 
while being just a substitute for the original thing.

Since then, yellow is the loneliest colour 
it's the jagged memory of a promise not kept 
how you vowed to stay with me for years to come 
while I sat on tiles of daffodils and wept.

Rike is from Germany, studying English. Words are quite literally her first love. Writing in English makes her feel brave and comfortable.

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