My Sky is Blue
My favorite color is blue.
It is the color I matured into after the Roses
In my mother’s garden didn’t amuse me anymore.
Blue became my mentality.
It was as if I was Mother Nature,
Damaging my soul at the change of weather.
I was the moon that controlled the rise and fall of the tides,
Finding new things to bring ashore.
I was my own forest fire, constantly rebirthing
From my ashes for a new storm to destroy me.
And there you were, standing in the middle of it all.
Silent.
And the silence was deafening.
To the point where my foundation became a shattered glacier,
And I melted by your feet.
Evaporated and dispersed where I can’t even find
The rest of my thoughts that were never said.
My fingers reach out to them, caressing but never grasping
Like they were gas ready to suffocate me with their chemicals.
So I’ll write them down.
And I’ll write, and I’ll write, and I’ll write
Until the pump at the gas station runs dry, but I’m still empty.
I’ll write till I have nothing to say to you anymore,
And then it will be your turn to be the storm and me the silence.
But now when I think of blue,
I think of you, and the sky is mocking me.