I see beige

We don't count days, weeks, months anymore -
we count cases
we number needles.

And in my world 
- all π5² square kilometres of it - 
there is only 
Shades of beige and 
Flavours of bland. 

Trackpants and cups of tea 
News reports and Netflix 
Work-from-home and home workouts. 

Your colour that invades
is fake and foreign;
Unwelcome. 

Don't tell me of travel plans and photos, 
reunions and recreation. They are
Colours too bright, 
Salt that stings. 
Let green-eyed monsters lie. 

And I realise:
though I see beige
and I taste bland 
I'm becoming
Black and bitter.