Untitled (My fingers / once tinged with blue)

My fingers,
once tinged with blue
and weighted with devotion
are empty;
my promises meaningless,
our words
simply
disregarded,

For there is no more faith
to be found under the river’s water,
no more roses to be plucked,
no more days of sunlit fields
against the marsh’s edges
to look forward to.

I am just
here, wrecked and whole,
from your disturbance;
and there is a colour inside of it all
that I will be able to describe
One day.