It isn’t comfortable or kind
and it doesn’t live in your chest.
or your head.
It doesn’t belong to logic
It isn’t grey or blue
and it isn’t light shades of pink
it isn’t pastel anything
it’s not a tint you know how to name.
It doesn’t sound like strings
or wind instruments
can’t be played out on keys
doesn’t belong to the bells.
It doesn’t live in the city,
or on any mountain peak.
It can’t be found on casual strolls
down side city streets.
Of course it is something, it has a title,
though, I’ve forgotten how to pronounce it.
couldn’t even sound it out,
buried it too deep to remember.
prompt found on NaPoWriMO