Laboratory Tests

Every conversation with you is like a litmus test.
I, the wide, open beaker of liquid
And you, the paper dipped carelessly into my fears,
As I lie prone, wondering, what will happen next,

When paper finds liquid: am I blue?

Pale and insignificant? Merely neutral?

Or red, flaring and angry,

With little control over what’s ‘right’ to do?

I’d rather be a flame test.
A multitude of colours flaring up every shade and hue.
Unpredictable. But at least catching your eye.
Then, maybe, I could d...