For some reason,
After you left again,
My insides painted themselves blue,
The mirrors all stared back,
Searched for the floods in my side,
Jarred up the thought of you,
I'm letting it sit for the summer,
Maybe it'll be ready in the fall

of course you disliked stupidity,
of course you didn't want me.

of course you hated immaturity,
of course you didn't need me.

*of course.

Hues of violet
As the azure meets the reddened sun
Sparse deflated clouds
Floated quiet as into each other, the colours run

Lavender streaks
Trail far into the horizon
Tracking the sunset
As the hour struck seven

Purple gladioluses
Bowed to the evening sea breeze
As if mourning the departure
Of the day's warmth with silent pleas

The orb finally sank
Beyond my sight could reach
Disappeared from here
But rising over someone else's beach

Last dregs of light
Slowly swallowed, giving birth to indigo
This night would last long
Before the first rays of tomorrow...

You are naked.
Alone.
In this room you have been in countless times,
but is in no way comforting.
The walls are all white,
the floor, sky blue and white
checkered tile.
You look up,
the single bulb flickers for a moment,
you walk towards the tub
in the center of the room,
it is an old style tub
with the clawed toes.
You turn the faucet,
it begins to ooze
dark red.
Is it mud?
or maybe blood.
you plug up the tub,
and sit down on the edge.
You watch the ooze
slowly covering the porcelain
and you get in
you sit down.
The ooze comes just up to your knees now.
It is odly cold
staining your skin.
You shiver,
but lie back anyways
as if to relax.
The ooze creeps up over you
engulfs you
smothers out all your senses
except sight
everything is silent now
and you can no longer breathe
The ooze is all around you
sloshing over the edge of the tub
and staining the tiles
sky blue and red.

10:23: Hey, I miss you.
11:47: I hope you're okay.
1:19: Please text me back, I'm worried.
2:10: Come back. Come back. Come back.
3:14: I'm so sorry.
3:26: I love you. Please reply.
3:58: Okay, well I'll be here if you need me.
4:17: I love you.

He never replied, but I'm still waiting.


          

                                 B.S.

I want to
write words
in hasty brush
strokes,
-messy yet
precise and
in its right
place- smear
and blend two
words into one
to create new
hues

How can I
paint a
poem?

How does
one display
indefinance
with definite
things?

Sometimes I wonder if it's even worth fixing,
The clock on my desk has been broken for too long now.
The hands have not move, have not touch.
But time hasn't stop,
And every now and then a second laughs at my clock,
A minute brushes its side,
An hour smiles at the stillness.
Years have passed and my clock has remained unchanged, unrepaired.
It is frozen in a moment of time,
Still in a bundle of memories,
Trapped in the infinity of the universe.
I wonder if it's even worth fixing a brokenness that makes you feel infinite.
I wonder if a life that could end is worth more than a death that persists.