Your eyes were blue.
Simple, yet so complex.
Before you, I'd only seen green, brown, and blue.
But your eyes,
they were neither.
Blue as ice,
though you were always warm.
And I guess the ice in your eyes was thin,
because I fell through.
Cascading, swirling,
I was drowning in you.
Every time you looked at me,
I sank deeper into your gaze.
Blue, like the depths of the ocean,
pulling me towards choppy tides.
Blue, like the sky,
forcing me to paint pictures that never truly capture its beauty.
Blue, like the poisoned drink brewed by a horrible sorceress,
intoxicating me, numbing my soul.
Blue, like the ink I used
to write songs and poems about you.
Blue, like the shards of glass I found on the beach,
you were a mystery I could never piece together.
Blue, like the lights on the trees in November,
the ones that filled me with a sense of wonder.
All this comparing is useless,
because there's one thing I know to be true.
I'll never find a shade
that resembles your blue.
YOU ARE READING
the city
Poetryand no matter how much you water scorched grass and withering weeds, you will never make a garden re-grow -M.R c.2016
