All of the vivid colors turn dull as the sun descends,
for you never turn on the light.
Soon the television will be all that illuminates the room,
everything cloaked in black with occasional splotches of dim hues corrupted by flashes of Hollywood,
but you've always lived in a fantasy world where the guy that beats you is handsome and dashing,
and you're still beautiful with no wounds to show.
I hope that you can find the glow you once possessed,
the million giddy thoughts that used to light your eyes, for these outside sources fail to make you see.