blue. a feeling. a genre of music.
a colour
I usually don't write in
but this time
the words don't come out anyway
you broke me that well
and I'm still bleeding
somewhere somehow
when I should have run
dry a while ago.
black. the suit. the metal. that kind
that does not reflect, but absorbs
whatever you pour into it.
this is where I felt at home
for so long it's hard
to measure in anything
but human years.
it's a lonely place; but whatever
you pour into it
resonates so well
it bleeds will into breath
bleeds me to life.
red. a stop sign. a gushing stream of
oxygenous blood. scars on your face
and yet a sign for me to run
no matter the risks of the road
this is where I should be;
in that diachromatic scenery;
watering roses in the charcoal desert.
Birth sign: Capricorn
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