for me,
everything is blue
my hair
my clothes
my shoes
my skies
my tears
my dreams
my heart

but she's pink
my feelings are pink

I remember my last love letter to you and how I apologized for being more ocean than girl, more suffocating than soft. I remember promising my reflection that I'd stop my heart from overflowing and I'd try to loosen my grip on you. I remember waking up the next morning and finding my heart on the front porch - beating and bleeding. Nothing too sentimental attached - just a plain old 'sorry' as if you had only bumped me by accident or forgotten to reply to a text. I remember trying to shove it back through your mailbox and your shaking head standing at the window. I remember waking up to everything smeared and hazy for two weeks straight I never knew morning from afternoon.  faded rose that used to be bright scarlet. I remember being pink for a while. It took me months to wash your stains from my walls but soon I was stark and white. Naked and empty. But at least you were gone. I remember swearing to never look at red again. Let alone touch it. But it's knocking at my door every morning and banging on the windows all night long. I try to ignore her singing but sometimes I crouch at the keyhole and hum along. Sometimes I stand clutching the key in my prettiest dress.

Last night I grew too curious. Opened the door just a crack. I saw love crimson and crying in my garden corner surrounded by empty bottles and cigarette buds.

I saw you drunk and tired

We gave up at the same time

All I see is up
The pink flower stretches to forever at the sky
I stare wishing to be among the clouds
Its anterior filters the sun’s warmth upon my soft arms
I sit upon the dark, sodden, summer earth
I am all to myself. Alone.
At home under their stems
So benign am I encased by the pink flower

The pink flower trembles under slight hand of a summer breeze
Honeyed are its petals,
But dangerous is its center
Pricking my delicate fingers
If I am not careful
Yet I watch a dragonfly land on it with grace           
Fragile insect legs grip tightly at the miniature pointed peaks

Wind caresses wisps of hair around my petite face
I am like a fairy
Not knowing the wonders of the world
Only the kingdom of the pink flower
Moisture sweetens the air
Drenching it with the breath of nature
Almost as if a mother is breathing comfort into my small body

The pink in the sky
The sparkle in your eye
Makes me feel alive

But she was so pretty in pink,
Does it mean she's ready to ****?
Don't such stereotypes stink?
Maybe she's not so pretty in pink......

Its quite a funny thing
My darling asked last night
She asked why the sky was pink
In the summers warm sky
I told her that little birds flew up
and painted it that way for all
But she giggled and said to me
Theres no air, they would fall!
When I was a young girl
I asked why the sky was blue
and when told it was painted that way
I took those words as pure truth
But my darling I am proud
that you question what is said
that will help you will be aware of those
Whose lies to you are fed

Sparkly.
Vibrant.
Lively, yet hiding something.

What can glitter hide?
What can sequins disguise?

Pink- intuitive, insightful, kind.

Under that glimmering surface
there is love.
Hurt.
Confusion.

And I'm never going to let go of
my wish
to enlarge
the love.

Little blue boy-
don't sleep for me, i
am not
your
princess
decked in rhinestones
that come in
red and
pink,

so kiss your fist and
say goodbye, my
heels just aren't that heavy...

save me in
another
life.