Monochromatic Problematic

I know that blue bleeds all over your artwork because I have nightmares of your favorite memory. But how do you remember the right hue of the ocean water when you lean into her lips? I know you notice the red that bleeds all over mine, but you never asked why. Would you believe I never noticed the blood that drenched us when you slit my throat? I was too focused on you to be anything but blind. Damn, I’m intoxicated off these infusions. I’ve drunk imagination and memories to the point where I slur purple when they ask me my favorite color. I only thought in black and white before I met you; your presence became the full spectrum ablaze in fireworks. Tell me — how far away is she from me in your mind? Let me know if you ever blur us in your dreams; do I ever confuse you into colorblindness? I know you’re known for selective coloring, and the Devil’s black has darkened your aura. At times, you made me the Aurora, but I’m becoming quantum since your distance (our pigments should never be this far apart). She’s the universe, she’s becoming all you can see; my shade is getting so hard to paint, dust is all I’ll ever be.