Out In The Blue

existence is a shade, a certain type.

wear the blue as a
reminder, not a heart-on-sleeve
as you have used the thickest of blue paint to

"cover that shit up."

its walking at night, upright, tight-
end in the mind where an aloofness should
reside. its pink on pink on pink
(dusty rose loves, fuchsia hues of
sunset, not blues
harbour coral-scaled
salmon)
blue, blue, blue--
only ever--
shades of blue.

blue skies. blue oceans.
its a start and where one
ends

because the first thing you do isn't
embroider your self-sewn,
passed down, heirloom
beating patch: all things heartfelt
its using everything in your power to
make sure you're next to
not having one.

its

leaving tracks in mud (blue) reaching for
survival knives (blue) yelling despite the
pressure (blue) polos in the winter (blue)
a light in the night because
you do want to go to (succeed) in school
you didn't really like (loathed) the way a
dead deer looked

and yes,

you thought it was kinda cool
you loved it, absolutely
wholeheartedly in
all shades of robins egg, baby blues, edge of the night skies in indigo wane to
america navy, deep sea camera waxing
ultramarine, steel in eyes as
teal-flux-turquoise; mountain's crest a horizon
of all things azure,
sapphire skies. cyan oceans,
blu--
how the moon looked
when bathed in
all the blue you never thought to keep,
all the blue left behind,
the blue deemed "lesser-pink" because this
is doublethink
the way words escape you.

its

blue.

in every sense of the word.
and how the gradients, wheels of blue-scale
alone
could bring peace in the night with no
descriptors.
but blue is blue
and pink is anything but

so lives turn loves' rosy hues in blushes to
ear tips
buds shed peach for the passion of deep mauve
seduction
hand-in-hand with bubblegum candies,
left feeling in lips of kindness and a lighthearted
streaks-of-flamingo everything smile.
as the sun is hot, and water is wet
blue is blue:
nothing more, nothing less.