The. Blues.

I’m everything that I’m not.
My vision is skewed.
My thoughts are select.
My movement is slow.
I don’t know how to explain it.
My words aren’t good enough.
If only I was an artist, I’d paint it.
On a white canvas. I’d paint you yellow, warm, like the sun.
Shining through me w/your heart beating red, like a drum.
I’d paint me blue for the cool I chose over you.
I can’t explain it.
My words aren’t good enough.
If only I was a musician, I’d play it.
In a large venue. I’d play you. A flat. B Sharp.
Through the notes.
My heart diffuses.
Into the room.
Filling their souls w/my blues.
I can’t explain it.
My words aren’t good enough.
If only I was a dancer, I’d show it.
On the streets of gold…slowly I’d dance until I couldn’t anymore.
Sensually spinning around the thought of you.
Out of my limbs comes the truth.
I’ve got the blues for you.
I guess that’s how you explain it.
I write it. I paint it. I play it. I move it.

The. Blues.

~Shanette