blue valentine

indigo

Lost in the mourning – nineteen,
finding my way to spell it out;
coffin nailed tongue,
all words run out;
how that moment – first of October,
painted time to make me remember you?

its blue–
the love i choosed,
the one that i've fallen,
and burned with into;
its the color of the skies,
from the window you looked
and the feeling i've got–
a pseudo-moment of truth.

all i know are lights in those midnight streets;
the image of you in shades of aquamarine;
that navy of yours wrapped on my delicate things;
no thoughts of forgetting,
all these flashes of blue that you've gave me.

lost in translation – where did i missed it?
violence are in the words,
carelessly thrown in between telephones;
painted this scene then we'll regret it–
how'd you move past like i'm highly unlikely?

its blue–
the hell that you loose,
all of my knuckles are bruised,
for i'm all mad into you.
it is the look in your eyes
when it pierced through my chest;
the void for a desperate,
left nothing but to forget.

its the skies painted in deep ocean hue;
the moment you told it in my favorite blues;
cerulean spots in my battle-old knees;
that cold arctic stare that goes through into me.
everything is in the color of blue
but lies within me is another–
indigo.

–it will be the shade of my memories
of you in the very fabric of my reality;
it is the haze of its blur clouding upon me
at the very moment of your leaving.

it will be the skies of my passing,
and every morning i am waking;
this will be the color of your legacy–
a phantom recollection of your leaving.

the metaphors of my madness,
being wildfire at nineteen,
all the fears creeping into me,
and stayed for all these years.

the very first was hard to lose,
your page's old but remains fresh;
the violets round my clenching flesh,
the feelings old from being blue,
and from being blue
turned indigo.