bluet or something like it
it must mean something when the whole world turns
monochromatic. unless i’m looking for signs in the
dark again. making meaning out of nothingness.
searching for a truth that hasn’t been hidden
from me. i mean i’ve kept my lights on deep sea
all month and all month, the whole world has turned
blue. sky a deep blue, water reflecting it. blue haze
over everything. blue behind my eyes. i’m always waiting
for something that isn’t coming, unless it has—
maybe while i blinked. i’m not waiting for anything,
i’ve just arrived. i’m waiting for things to start or maybe
for them to startle. everyone knows the beginning is
swallowing around the end, but does anyone know
what it tastes like? i’d like to taste pure blue, but it’s
manufactured. blue raspberry, the purest blue, unreal.
there’s no way the sky’s palette is real, someone made it.
left their brush to smear against their hands, then canvas.
BEE LB is an array of letters, bound to impulse; a writer creating delicate connections. they have called any number of places home; currently, a single yellow wall in Michigan. they've been published in FOLIO, Roanoke Review, and FEELS, among others. their portfolio can be found at twinbrights.carrd.co