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Hanafuda Feb 2019
I can't remember the first night
after our break-up.
I don't know if I slept peacefully
Or if I had nightmares
Or if I slept at all.

But I can't forget the nights I spent
Next to you,
In the warmth of our embrace
How the pleasant dreams
Would fill our nights
And our feelings
Would fill our hearts
That, I thought, sang the same song.

But now I know we have different colors
Which paint our destinies.
When my baby-blue mixed
With your crimson-red
They made a single dark-pink line
To be the proof of our union.
.
Sierra Blasko Jan 2019
Red
Red
Red is Mondays, swirling in a poisoned cloud
Like the aether
Ready to grab my hand
And throw me into the middle of the week
Before I know
What it is exactly that I have touched
And before I am ready as well

Red is apples
Macintosh melancholy
And candle wax galas
Red is an explosion
Of dark magic
Red and black, the perfect duo
Twisting and weaving in their dance
All low notes
And timpani rumbles
And middle C
And like the dueling harmonies
Red is too loud
Too bright
And at the same time
Always present
Always safe

Red is blood
In the same way my emotions are of pearl
Luminescent and shifting

If you see them
Something’s wrong
Cobalt Jan 2019
The word is an agitated shade of red, that hides and lurks beneath subdued greys and darker blues. Anger sneaks up behind you, churning and festering with every word spoken until
Snap!
And everything you were concealing is done and gone and out.
It’s out in the open and yet you wish you could take it all back inside

Because the dangerous thing about anger isn’t the slamming doors or the screaming fits,
It’s the broken hinges and hoarse voices,
The words you will never be able to take back,
And the regret that fills every part of your being.
Aditya Roy Jan 2019
I see scarlet
When I hear the funeral trumpet
Now she is just a color

I hear Scarlet's cries
The love of my life
Murdered in cold blood
She was my wife

I have synesthesia
I see the blood
Imagining color is easier
For me

The blood has turned cold
But the color is warm
I feel blue when I think of her
And feel much warmer
Synesthesia is a perceptual phenomenon of simultaneous sensory stimulation.
stranger Nov 2018
I am watching the grass grow
He said as his eyes turn yellow.
Fog and rain levitate around
Twirling and singing with no sound.
He shuts them up
Liquid thunder
I can't fall in the gap
Being able to breathe never seemed harder.
But crimson orchids grow out of desperation
Spreading their roots over hopes and dreams
In a game of decapitation
The headless boy wins.
And he dances on silent waters
Surrounded by velvet curtains
Broken everywhere by every flower
That told him love hurts.
But water still flows
And my orchids still grow
The liquid thunder stays in
And surrenders to the storm within.
Toothache Sep 2018
Did you know you sound blue
That I feel yellow when you laugh
That your small hums make the air orange

Did you know your handwriting is pastel
And the way you run your hands through your hair is aqua marine
And the way you walk is every shade of neon

Did you know that when you fidget I see sparks of silver
And your smile is scarlet red
And that when you look at me
I feel violet in my finger tips

Did you know that you are the number 7
Or that I smell amber when I read your name
Or that I can't call you just one,
Because every colour comes to mind
Whenever I think of you
Kayley Godek Jun 2018
When you speak I see cascades of life.
Life and light tend to look the same.
Your light is turquoise and the color of jade sitting just beneath the surface of choppy water.
When you speak I feel heat.
You have yet to burn me.
You are the steady warmth of new born embers of a fire yet to blaze.
When you speak I smell salt water.
Even with a sting, you’re the most refreshing thing.
The ocean is not as paradoxical as your passionately calm surface.
When you speak I taste loneliness.
Bitter sweet like underripe tangerines.
I cannot know this beautiful mind of yours without encountering a cold, rusty, metal wall.
When you speak I hear midnight.
You know how to play the silences.
I hold my breath waiting for the next sentence you’re carefully, mysteriously orchestrating.
Whisper or shout; continue to speak to me.
Sierra Blasko May 2018
I did
I think
But it's been years
Years
Years
When I was not

And I don't remember
quite
What being well
is like

I mean
I mean
I am always well
I am
Always moving
Because an object at rest-

I've said this already

So I'll rest when I'm dead
Or I'll die when I rest
And I'm not ready
yet
I haven't made my mark
yet
I haven't swelled my voice
With the chorus of those
who came before me
yet
I haven't heard that note
One note
In a symphony
The glorious harmony
I
Haven't drawn a breath
and
Heard the empty space
and
Felt the sharp ***** of awe
That the gap
Is for me to fill
Little me
Little
Gap

And that
I think
Holds me here
Roots my feet to the ground
To Earth
Because humans
Are delicate
It would not take so much
To flee this mortal form
But
I am not ready
It is not my time
I am secure
Knowing my days are numbered
Measured out
By One
Who does not lose count
Lose thought
Think
All in the wrong order
At all the times
Which are
Most inopportune

It is my greatest honor
It is my greatest humbling

And anyways
I am well
Well enough to sing
To dance
Well enough for joy
To light its fire
Bursting pyrotechnics
In my chest

Except
Of course
When I am not
Not when my thoughts
Take the wheel
And I am caught in loops
Loops
Loops

"Shape without form
Shade without color"
I drift
In monochromatic waves
Clinging to the memory
And hope of hues
Beyond my mind's walls
I drift
In soft piano melodies
And synesthesia winds my senses
In a great tangle
Melancholy tastes like apple
But un-achored
Only smells like dust
Looping and twirling in the breeze
Over the ocean
Invisible
Under the too-wide sky
Over the too-bright sea

Until it hits city
And the city
Brings it back down
Tears it into a million
Tiny
Fragments

They used to be it
They used to be whole
They were once
But now
Not

And just like that
The conclusion
Brings me down
With a jolt and a bump and a thud
Like a plane
Or the clanking chains
Of a rollarcoaster

My stomach is doing rollarcoaster loops
Loops
Loops
I used to be well-
(i've said that too)
-But sometimes
I am well
Now
And I forget
That with a breath
I can be
Not

It is terrifying
But I am not scared
You know
Part of life
Is living it
This was supposed to be
More coherent
breathing the turquoise like lavender,
and sipping the blue summer.
bitter cold clouds glide and morph lava lather,
floating whispers cut by sweet pineapple sunshine.

soon, a moment, now
rhythms ripple the sky like skipping stones
we jump the music like puddles
splashing in the frequencies.

cobalt bass rumbles the earth hungry,
pumps the air with springing spirals
pushing and pulling the senses,
reverberating through cells.

heavy mud humming, stomping
echoes through our atoms dizzy;
balancing tuned body to innate electricity
the fizz of circulating lemonade energy.

we jump the music like puddles
splashing in the frequencies.

strawberry melodies spilling ribbons,
dolphin leaps of the spaces inbetween beats,
lines of colours overlapping,
colliding, mixing, merging, blending
in with the forest.

washing over souls the life fire sparkles
like a clear water cleansing harmonies,
sound waves crashing against inertia.
phosphorescent glow of re-charged love
for the world, for being, animation

flowing through burnt smoky ashes
of sapphire charcoal skies;
dimmed radiation of chlorophyll emerald days.
the smell of salt, dry bark, fluffy carbon mists,
trembling lights softening the eyes'
grip on outlines, loosening lies.

watching the cycles of patterns
tumbling colours through a mill rotating,
and the silence of listening
when the music comes to an end.
Something I've been working on for a long time on and off since 2015.
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