You're Blue

"You're blue," he said to me

before he smoked salvia in the corner

and saw omnidirectionally

"You're blue"

the blue of a receding sky, of a pill, of the national suicide train track warnings in Japan

the blue that a woman could fall into and lose herself in

"You're blue"

grief curled up in me like a mollusk

like a tiny thing I have to carry till I die

"You're blue"

blue in the Matisse poster of dancers holding hands and singing over my bed

where I lay alone

"Melancholy," he used that word

how I felt when I finally start achieving things

and began forgetting who I was

What if I can't get rid of it?

What if no matter how hard I scrub

I'm still blue at the end?

I'll fly out of the sky

I'll fly to the end of the world

To see where my blue ends