Fescue fields in view
Electric neon butter *****
Scattered glowing beacons
Dot the greens and browns
Magnets for little hands
Tiny feet racing to keep up
Their laser focus
To pick and pick and pick
More and more and more
Fistfuls of joy
To tickle the nose
To share laughter
To put in a pocket
Then nap and forget


© 2019 MJL

You could never really look at
The color yellow the same
Because she put in it poems
And wore it against her shoulders

You found in the way she smiled
Or the noise she made when she laughed
It burst through the times she cried
Swam in her crocodile tears

It settled on her furniture in pillows
And moved through her bones in daylight
But reflected in her eyes in the nighttime
Cartwheeled on her eyelashes

She exhaled it in between sheets
And whispered it against your ear
It warmed her hands as they touched you
Engulfed her soft fingertips

You found it in her curled hair
Or the freckles on her arched back
It hung on her pink plump lips
Vibrated in her velvety kisses

It patterned the dresses she wore
And painted the tips of her toes
But tickled the nape of her neck
Danced on her tanned skin

She held it tightly in her chest
And you felt it when you held her close
It hummed against your own
Consumed her entire body

You could never really look at
The color yellow the same
Because she put it in poems
And all it ever did
Was remind you of her

I like yellow
I like yellow because like me
I like yellow because like me it's loud
I like yellow because like me it's loud, it's obnoxious
I like yellow because like me it's loud, it's obnoxious, it's bright
I like yellow because like me it's loud, it's obnoxious
I like yellow because like me it's loud
I like yellow because it's like me
I like yellow
And I like me

Anxiety gnaws at the walls...
tearing at the black, blue, and yellow wallpaper.
The blasts pick up...
hovering shelves filled with knickknacks befall,
crushed as the hurricane begins.
Journals and notebooks strip themselves...
rippling throughout the chamber.
Jars filled with captured memories, moments, litter the floor
...erratic hops around bonfires
...flower wreaths
...crystal giggles piercing the atmosphere
all become mundane puzzle pieces scattering the ground.

And I rock back and forth in the middle...
what worse penitentiary, then your own thoughts.

One wall was painted dark blue,
while the other wore a bright yellow,
and the spot known as the corner was now known as me.

Upon the blue wall I wrote: "I don't want to live alone."
Upon the yellow wall I wrote: "I want to be with you."

But as the corner of the room I knew that though the emotions were juxtaposed, the message was still the same.