the threads in her head

The Aftermath-

Red and yellow, once
full, but now bust, little
shreds pathetically on the
floor. Scraps of a happier time.
The music blares loud and cheerful, the
old man sweeps up the reds and yellows.
He's decked in grey and blue.

Blue. I'm feeling
blue. The blues, they're soft and
low and painfully sweet. I think, I
kind of expected it, this blue. But,
I didn't know it'll be this, this blue.
His image floats in my mind - like a balloon. Sunny and
bright, red and yellow. Pop.

Pop. There went another
balloon. The red exploded, a large piece of
limpid rubber floats gently
down to the ground. The old man sees
it. He sweeps it up. They shall be discarded,
later.