The Colour of Forgotten

the colour of forgottenInhale me

breathe me

full of love

in our

rustic orange

dreams

in a dusty rose

forgetfulness

and a place

of forgotten

feelings

touch my soul

keep me there

quiet

perfect

and whole

© Kait King, 2015

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36 thoughts on “The Colour of Forgotten

  1. Pingback: Daily Poetry – Charles Fantroy – Author, Poet, Screenwriter

              • You’re welcome xoxo by the way, did I ever tell you how much I enjoyed the 3 Little Piggies? Even the twist at the end was a shock, finished rereading it while on holiday and it’s better second time round xoxo

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                • Oh I hope so Dave, that is great, thank you 🙂 xoxo I read it again but as usual one is never happy with one’s own work! Is one? I actually don’t like that one-one thing….lol 😛

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                  • I know what you mean, I’ve rewritten the draft of 1965 so often now because I don’t feel certain my memories are real. I started doing so much damage to my brain that year it was incredible, or was it just that I tried so much to fit in with my friends? We’re all guilty of never being certain if the events truly happened the way we think they did. If we imagine things one way is that the way they were meant to be? Aren’t all writers sure of their facts when writing then start to doubt themselves at some point? Could it be inevitable that once our work is out there we revisit and wonder if we couldn’t have written this bit differently? Or maybe changed that a little? 😍 xoxo

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                    • Every single time – it literally took me 20 yrs to get The 3 Little Piggies out – and it still felt unfinished, rushed – there could be more, etc etc! I think this is the writer’s dilemma – when to let it go. It’s like a child you’ve nurtured, then you have to let them go…but you’re never really ever sure they truly are ready! And they are always a piece of you 🙂 xoxo

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                    • You’re not the first person to say that to me, strange as it may sound. Even John Lennon said that if he waited too long songs would be put on the shelf as unfinished. He liked nothing more than writing and recording so would release singles quickly while working on albums for months sometimes. Maybe we are all guilty of procrastination when trying to make the best of our thoughts. Love to you as always my friend, if I could take your pain then I would, why do we have to suffer this way? Kait, I wish you nothing but love even though we’ll never meet you have blessed my life with your friendship and love, here’s to many more years together xoxo

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                    • Oh I certainly hope so my dear friend – isn’t life a strange beast! You have been the same support for me and I marvel how great the connection of two minds, or like souls, or however you like to put it, can override any other divide 🙂 I wish we could escape this earthly burden of pain, but I have devised an answer I feel is adequate as to why we have to suffer this way…I had to find this answer or else I was going to stay in the same place, treading water waiting for change when I was the changer. I believe I am suffering like this because I am able to cope with it. Others may not be able to cope or be positive (not that I haven’t wanted to call it quits numerous times!), or it may break them – whatever it is, but the Universe has deemed me tough enough to handle this and get on with it – re-invent myself, search for purpose, give meaning to my life – and I sure as shit don’t feel like ThAt every day! Lol – but that’s life … will I let it eat me up before taking a few huge bites? No! 🙂 and that’s all I have to move me on with my burden. Maybe this helps, maybe not. Either way – Peace, Love n Light dear Dave xoxo

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                    • Oh wow, Kait you have to make the most of what life throws your way. I have a very high pain threshold but even so there are days where I struggle to manage it, lots of love right back to you my dearest sister. May we continue to get together through WordPress for years to come xoxo

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  2. This is a deep one….
    So deep that I seem to feel like burrowing deep within and maybe even covering myself and just lay there, in my own little cocoon.
    At the least, a minute, an hour maybe a day.
    Robert

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