Think thick strings,

thin wood hallowed

holding wrinkled hands

with fluid smooth

sax makin sexual sensual moves,

real jazzy smellin like cologne

church oils laced with cigarettes

and drinking alcohol.

 

Think isolated islands

without Forever,

those blue waters the furthest thing you see,

and black blue accompany you

and the stars in the sky

on cold nights

alone.

 

Think classical feelings

in the color blue

as I was color struck

colored up in the blues

 

she made me feel

a man I am,

but she made me feel

 

made this black man feel

lost in each other

lost with each other

lost who I thought you were

in that moment

 

losing who I thought I was

I’m losing

you’re losing

we’re losing

 

Wait…

 

Who are you again?

And who am I?

We?

 

Let’s start over

over analyzing the problem

till it’s solved,

and the blue butterflies in my stomach

can flutter the fuck outta here

 

fuck outta here.

2 Comments

  1. I love these lines: “Think classical feelings / in the color blue / as I was color struck / colored up in the blues”. You own thesightofvaleer.com now! Smashing new layout, I think it matches your dusky vibe really well. Cheers to you!

    Liked by 1 person

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