An Untold Tale For The Dreamers

A land far far far away

Just a myth, you say?

But oh, if you could only see

The way the shining stars gleam.

By the word of ladies and lords

Heroes and villains clash swords.

Wizen old wizards with pointy hats,

Witches with their sleek black cats.

A world so different from here

All your troubles disappear

Yes: love, passion, and all things fair

Waiting for someone out there. 

peaceless

blue is everyone's favorite color

and i understand why, when i look at the sky

it is vastly finite,

celestial, crystalline, faraway and close at once

the ancients thought there were oceans above the clouds.

(i want to sail in them

like the birds)

blue is calmness, quietness, serenity, peace

it is

everything 

i do not have

sometimes, for a moment

i read a perfect book (read this. it's perfect. nothing's perfect. this is)

or maybe i hear someone laugh

or someone understands what i mean without my having to explain myself

or maybe i look at the vastly finite blue sky and think about forever

or something

but that's just a moment--

lovely, freedom, perfect, but it--

fades away in an instant

like drawings scribbled on fogged windowpanes

like the daisy stargirl puts in a vase on her desk every homeroom

like, i don't know, life

(like the way the cerulean summer sky fades into the cold gray-white of frosty-shouldered winter, evanescent)

and i'm peaceless again

(blueless)

lost in the wintry-white sky like a kite on a broken string

---

"Read this," I said. "It's perfect."

"Nothing's perfect," Jenna said.

"This is."

-- Amelia Unabridged 

It's been a while!

Lost in the Blue

I feel blue today,

Bluer than your eyes that I got lost in the day we met,

Eyes I don’t believe I ever escaped afterwards.

Your gaze pulled me in like a siren’s song,

And I longed to be the focus of it.

It is only now that I know that siren’s songs kill.

You didn’t seem to take the hint, so let me make it clear:

I loved you.

I loved you so much, I gave you everything I had. 

I thought you were worth it.

I knew it was dangerous, but I thought loving you enough could make you see,

And melt away the icy armor you seem to have wrapped your heart in.

It couldn’t.

My love for you was - and still is - unconditional. 

But it’s exhausting.

I’m lost in the blue,

But I can’t stay lost there forever.

I still love you and I don’t think I’ll ever stop.

But right now,

I’m choosing to turn away from your blue eyes,

Pull on my hoodie,

Blast my music-

Right now, I’m choosing to keep loving you…

But to not let my love for you be the reason I can’t love me. 

BLUE

The sky is blue,

and so is the sea,

blue is a feeling the my brain,

gives me! 

she steals away in the quiet of the night

escapes to an island of blue

where the grass grows turquoise and the animals bleed a jean-jacket blue

where the sea blends into the sky

and the rain pours down all day and night.

some say during every storm she sings the song of a blue jay

and if you go out in the rain and really listen

you can hear what she was always trying to say.

an ode to my pencil

the mechanical pencil sitting beside my laptop is blue.

I've cycled through several iterations of the exact same thing

and I've near memorized its shape:

smooth white eraser, clearish blue tube, soft grip with perfect little indents, rounding off in a transluscent tip and thicker lead. about twenty or so more sit in my desk.

It may seem strange to some that I keep so many, refuse to write with anything else;

but to me it's not something I can seem to take lightly.

maybe it's the way my fingers can't seem to move if the pencil doesn't feel just right 

or because something familiar brings me a sense of calm and routine

or maybe it's because I care so deeply about what comes out of the pencil;

even if my words are scattershot and half-formed, even if my ideas remain stuck and unwelcome in the transition from mind to page, even if I don't find myself creating intricate metaphors worthy of dissection in a high school english class-

I hold the immense power of the written word in my hand.

And such power, I think, should be channelled with the proper weapon.