The orange smell of hormones and noon. The deep blue of denials tossed with spoons of chocolate and goo. Tangerines of dusk, hiding behind handfuls of wings and indigo masks. The pink-ed skin of the back of conscience. The green scales of fear smothering the edges of yellowed recalls. The frayed turquoise of care and hurt. The cascades of red in our town, virgin and unscathed. The sepia of smiles behind pretense and zilch. The daylight magenta of sun-rays on the feet. The peacock blue of rains scalding hopes and skin. The azure of tears and peach of midnight feasts. The crimson of dolled-up cheeks and cheeky beginnings. The sapphire of flames and rubies of overslept dreams. The scarlet of blood and silvers of rust and age. Tangles of burgundy and thoughts of brown and grey. Royalties of emerald and creams of time gulped with sleep. The cherry of blush and words of gold inside circles of leftover beige and silk.

What colour is your dream? What colour is your soul?

Black and white. We lie entwined, painting our own puppet shows.