just maybe if i stopped listening maybe you could understand what i try to say and that would be nice, wouldn’t it but it wouldn’t it would simply make things easier for the both of us and to be honest i don’t think it’d be worth it anymore
swallowing my guilt, “i became sick of lighting myself on fire vomiting too much to handle only to dump it out the window so that they could dance on the streets in the shadows of my mind where butterflies blushed a murky ash
i looked into her eyes
black pearls—i could see myself, smeared
guilt ridden, i pushed my forehead against hers
grey, but she always was
calmed my nerves that fritzed like our tv’s static
she’s still here, folded backward on my bed
just, i wasn’t.
it’s been a while since i saw you smile
but when you did —you know, yesterday—
i just wanted to say, i liked it
because curled up in all that night
i won’t deny it, your gold kindness
that trickles down my cheeks
like syrup, i used to say,
was lost in all the calamity i threw myself in
it’s hard trying to show that you’re okay while still being “authentic”
but right now, i’m happy
the demons—they were pushed down
am i happy?
they’re just gone i guess
yeah, i’m happy
is this normal?
i think we have it in reverse:
for i wonder what life would be like if we were judged
not by what makes us different
but for what makes us human,
and if we were loved not for what makes us alike
but for what makes us just so colorful.
water isn’t blue.
water is clear, transparent;
she reflects all that is around her
cools with ice, warms by the furnace—
she changes easily.
soaks in the murkiness that dare touch her
yet frolics with the idea of pulling in every piece of light
that wraps around her body.
of all things however,
water isn’t blue.