The Blue Silhouette

is it wise to romanticise the blue silhouette of your crouched being that projects on white walls of 1,2,3 A.M

a permanence of sixth months

half a year with the

fear

that the blue will leave and leave me

blue not crouched and not filled with you

your breath is heavy and we are silent

old wood threatens to disrupt the notion of innocence and the anonymity of a first love

my minds wanders mimicking your hands while I conjure thoughts complex as the galaxies your fragile fingers brush finding nerves that are only legal by blue light

electricity ironic in the sense of blurred senses and damp hair

wet breath and soft lips

soft words and Blue Light

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