dreaming of goddesses, sunflowers and italian sunshine.
yet, every heaven has a hell under its surface.

write free, SomeFormOfWriting
miss you, LackingASocialLife
go be great, paperbird

Message to Readers

This is part 3 of the 'Following You' series I'm writing. Part 1 is called "Writer's Block", feel free to check it out if you haven't already (don't worry there's no continuity).

Blue Words

August 28, 2018


    My words are blue – azure, navy, shades ranging between Caribbean and turquoise. Staining the page and my fingers, the light blush of cerulean dusting my eyebrow and mouth (I don’t know how they got there).

    My body is not my own, an eternal cage, but a cage that can be altered nonetheless. But alterations call for metalworkers and seamstresses who have to agree on the actions to be taken. Some seamstresses don’t want to make the alterations, saying, “But this is perfect, you look lovely.” Alterations come with consequences that I don’t know if I know how to face.

    My passions are that redistribution rather than creation; nothing is created or destroyed, merely transferred – shifted – the words on the page none of them my own invention, but the order is something of my own fingers.

    My years are numbered, thirteen, the unlucky number. Superstition drives my year, looking over my shoulder and keeping umbrellas closed indoors. Making sure to pat the black cat on the street’s corner, keeping mirrors inside velvet pouches. Counting crows but turning away before I hit seven.

    My hand coming away from their fur covered in tiny hairs, my face always moist when I’m around them from their gratuitous licks that are less than hygienic, but they don’t understand that. A duo of barks, frenzied love and steadfast protection.

    Danger calls to me; the voice of irony laughing softly in my ear as it watches me go meekly through my days, cautious as a deer at a river, ready to spring at a moment’s notice. The challenge calls to me; the smell of gunpowder and the weight of responsibility make my heart beat fast with want.

    My lips turn upward as my pen makes the finishing mark. This is why I’m a writer.
Didn't know exactly what to do with this one, and I don't know you that well but here you go BlueWriter. I might not like all of your pieces, but I do like your profile pic :)


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1 Comment
  • R.j.Elsewhere

    So well written, can't wait for mine!

    over 1 year ago