Belonging to Blue

There is a complexion of

Superiority

Among the infinite blues;

The sky

And the sea

And all of the songs

And hues

That they possess.

There is

An unselfish shadow

That owns only minutes of the night,

Compiled by milliseconds,

Between the moon

And the webs of bat wings.

I found it

One night,

Between their blind dives,

And the clouds.

It’s the blue

That belongs to

The smell of grass sweating

After long and humid days.

It’s the blue

That belongs to

The sound of the Earth sighing

And the people decompressing.

It’s the blue

That belongs

To the pulse between skin

And cigarette smoke.

It belongs to all of the things

That the day cannot give you.

It’s not the blue

Of the sky

Or the sea;

This is the blue

That belongs to

The parts of life

You breathe

When the day

Drowns them out.

It is the infallible assurance,

That there is life

In the in-betweens,

In the milliseconds of minutes.

It’s the blue

That is kind

To the people

Who are desperately looking

For a place

To belong.