n a v y b l u e

I made it through when you bought be a pendant of blue and I made it though the settling of an obelisk in the middle of my bedroom all yours and all yours. Once you napped and I brought home a fistful of leaves from the fall sidewalk fall. You were hot from running in your sleep. I wouldn't want to stop the aliasing now. It is all I do, these days. A mixing of sky color to create a trip I have taken only once across a greener farmland in the middle of a raging winter towards a sea. Violent see nothing in the pitch black. I could hear everything, memory and everything else there. I could see nothing and you didn't even hold my hand. But, I could see it all in the stars above. I could see the navy blue. Knew it looked good on my wool. You took some home in your pickpocket. Oh, yes, your home. Subject of that obelisk. Not green but I think rather than seeing you again in that black shirt I would like to paint the canvas the color of the seamouth in December on the coast of dirt and shadow and sell it. If I could sit in an ice cafe, then could I write it all out and send it without a return address?