blue to remind me of your eyes
like deep oceans. I drown and die.
Blue are the bruises that
my knees and arms carry; the veins
that run through my body, looking
translucent like light birds.
Blue is anxiety.
When I can’t breathe,
I clutch your hand tightly;
my lips are not a lively red
but almost faint from the cold of your body.
Blue was the rain that I drew on
paper when we were together.
It was the ribbon that you tied
a birthday gift with.
It was the bracelet that left scars
when you saved my life.
Your grave is gray and dark and gone,
but I remember you in the blues.
My favorite color.
Lauren Young is 17 years old; she lives in Stamford, CT. Besides creative writing, Lauren enjoys figure skating, listening to music, and photography. She is on a search for the best bubble tea drink.
image: Nick Collins at Pexels