Not a poem, just a stream of consciousness under the guise of poetry.
Red, White and Blue
if it were as it should be, dreams wouldn’t float off, disappear into ether. unanchored balloons. leave me on my knees. unwind from my wrist. grab hold to undulating, crooning breeze. become blood drops between the razor grey clouds. i watch them fly away like the past. rising higher. a blazing fire. a RED STAINed star. too far gone to reach. And now they're gone.
you are a cloud. scintillating glitter off what is left of the evening sun. glowing waters find your body when splintered dam comes undone. you. tangible and high. but when i reach to touch you my hand slips right through you. did you feel my grip on your cloak? i am a water that your body soaks. even when i close my eyes, you’re there. WHITE STAIN on my listless mind. but at times when i call, you are merely a glare, and you are impossible to find.
did you ever read the letters i sent to you? as they rose up to your throne. or did you leave my outstretched hand alone? i saw it sit for months on that hill. my letter to you, untouched...still. ink soaking, running in the rain. my muddled words are worthless in mud, the dirt BLUE STAIN. you never explained why. you just let me grip the grit as my memories fall through my fingers and die. i am a shell tossed to the shore, return to ocean, sink and stick to untouched floor.
