Blue. It's the color I see when I think of my dad. Blue, it's all I felt when my mother said that he had died. The color of my dress the day I said goodbye to him. Blue, the sky's still blue, but all I see is gray. The color of his contacts on Thanksgiving. Gray. The color of the clouds before a storm. Gray, reminding me that he is near. Shades of blood flash in my mind. Reminding me of past habits. Blue.. It always goes back to blue. the color of my contacts when I read him a poem in front of family and strangers. Blue. My grandmother saying, "I love you, blue eyes." Red.. anger, blood dripping in the sink.. No, blue.. Sadness, the color that lingers in my mind
Making me feel..
Blue.
The only thing I feel.
Blue.
He was blue.
The day he ended his life.
He was blue.
But looked like a whole rainbow.
He was blue.
His mask came off at the end of the day.
Blue.
He was always
Blue.
There was nothing we could do to help.
He hid it so well.
In his own personal hell,
he was only
blue.
YOU ARE READING
My Poetry.
PoetryThis is just a way for me to keep my poems from randomly disappearing. Read them if you'd like. I'm not responsible for your tears.
