Looking at the birds
Little girl thinks,
"How sweet it would have been
If I had wings."

Looking at the girl
Caged birds sing,
**"No birds would be flying in the sky
If humans got wings."

I treasure your thoughts for they mirror mine
and I often feel like the sky
So blue
but I am
just another reflection of you
the true source of life and all I can do
is jot ******* drops of truth
frigid fractalized isolated idioms
Verbose vapor flakes seeking fictional synonyms    
headlong ing to be with you
more than me and I am not really blue

This much is truth
pooling thoughts in my planetarium booth
brainstorming ways to lightning youth

But I am not You

I am see through
a satellite out of view
conduit of the more true, Luna
who is more of an effec-tionate of you
morpheous of midnight master of black, whole, new
presenting red eyed roses nightly reflected by you

(but see me I am through)
Liquid glass
Preview
The deep the blue
and I am not blue  

scratching the surface and rippling clues
like Voyager's travels
I am echoing shadows of the beauty
you innerview
snapshots of interstellar War Stars out of sight
I am through, see
you hold mysteries I only understand by sky light
when I move you move and you move with might
the final frontier is my domain but you hold many more
leagues unknown and forget me knots
Consider me the wife of Lott
in the massive wake
a primordial parking lot
present yet nought

Blue

In my ever reaching expanse
am just fuel for flame
fleas and moth flee in the aether of my veins
Which provide little shelter
From larger wings of change
While great and small exist in all
your leagues of  superfluous membrane
Cool azule from whence life can be sustained
Be Tickled by the fingers of my admiration make waves of mutual celebration
But do not be humbly demurred
Be for me what I can not be

Blue

I have a wound which
the eye cannot see.
Making riddles out of the obvious.
My heart yet not comprehend,
the impervious mischief of brokenness.

A splash of ennui amidst
the savoring intellect.
Listlessness and apathy
endures mortality.

My heart grew fond
of my own enmity.
Bitterness is truancy
that rivals denouement.

Oh my sweet lacksey-daisy heart,
where do I go from here?
Round and round in the roundabout.
River I kept swimming
head over heels.

I'm thinking of a thought
that I don't understand.
As soon as I admit
I'm alive, I am dead.

They say when you're lonely,
you think too deeply.
Maybe, but I don't care.

Should I go swimming?
Or should I be drowning?
I don't know the difference anymore.

White is black, black is white.
But there is no gray.

Oh my sweet lacksey-daisy heart,
do you believe me?
I don't care.

They say good things about me.
But what does it mean
to look beyond me?
I'm already in the middle,
right before I even started.

**iamthe_avatar ©2017

I was among a list of objects
whose value was of fleeting joy
expecting to give lasting happiness
maybe to a busy lady
or to a lonesome boy

I was placed beneath the tree
and opened—
my wrappers eagerly teared up by hand
yet the recipient's smile
lasted but for a moment
and this I could not understand

I realized I was of tiny worth
compared to the Father's Son
the gift no worldly present can surpass
meant for each and every one