| CXVII | ||||||||||||||||||||||||
| CXVII | ||||||||||||||||||||||||
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She's the last blue in my spectrum. It's the colour of the sea's horizon at moonrise. I no longer just see the music, I feel sounds. Sky Blue is a whisper hidden in the last of my breath as I'm humming John Coletrane's jazz all to myself mellow as midnight in a Parisian park under a candlelit streetlamp named "Kevin was there" I've got a thousand yard stare. I'm listening to the ddistance, sounds hazily navy. It's SADE accupella, I tell her talk slow sister I'm right there with ya' verrally weak. Speak to me sister speak. This is gothicly blue over chocolate. I pick her pockets in slow motion- I fathem an ocean. . . blue, a step sister to black. I hear aqua petals unfolding slowly under heavenly constellations. This sounds like a choir, and they tell the congregation- THIS TO SHALL PASS. THIS BLUE SHALL PASS. | |||||||||||||||||||||||
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I will be moving my belongings in shortly. In the meantime why not check out the link below to get your own 20MB of free webspace? | |||||||||||||||||||||||
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