this too is not about tint

this too is not about tint,
a has-been, mere vapor blown,
settled, wiped clean and thrown;

"i suppose you know", he says
memory is said not to be keen;

neither are plans, penned,
even if partially grown,

for despair paints,
as you know,

are opaque and spoilt, instead
of brights or spring tone,
burnt umber in rancid oil.

as you can tell, my love—
this one is not about high-art, at all.