midtones

I exist in a world of uncertain, a world in my own hands. I view this land through shades of grey, not one light or black.

I have never known "exact"; my words hold no command. the washed-out tones where I call home, be it blurred and bland.

I long to hold you closer, but your colors are too bright. You see right through my dull flat eyes, into my shaded light.

I exist in a limbo; slate, beige, and agreeable grey. No matter what words I use, I don't say what I see. And if I held you nearer, then by the light of day, you'd be swallowed up in my ashen tentancy.