The Ballad of Jacaranda and Flame

Vermillion is the colour of fresh, living blood.
Lavender, from the Latin word to wash.

I remember below the vermillion and lavender,
beneath the flame and jacaranda trees.
We embraced,
showered with vermillion and lavender.
We kissed and he made promises and the flowers fell and my heart was vermillion satin.

But he was like other men,
confetti words,
so many falling flowers.
Then the trees were bare.
I sat on the ground,
all around rotted flowers,
fallen words on patches of bare earth and I cried.

Time has passed.
The flower time has come again but I no longer stand beneath the trees,
instead lying under the weight of stone and watching the heavens forever more.
The tears have washed me out;
cleansed me like an enema,
hollowed,
hallowed,
body and soul.
The tears took my love away and I have none to give.
I am as cold as lavender, never again to be warm as vermillion.