Blue is the New Black

I miss it all tonight.

The smile in the moon seems rather dim. Spotlights on my heavy heart are too bright, too bold, too ignorant, and my patience with them is wearing thin.

Sketch my profile into the book of lost causes. Paint my eyes on a page of the deepest heavens and hells.

Make me into something I am and I am not.

Someone ought to remember this. Someone ought to know this by heart. But I've never been one for memory, and my heart cannot think for itself. Someday we'll all understand, you say. Someday it will all be clear. But I will not wait.

The air is thick with implications and expectations, my lungs gasping and choking on injustice. What we deserve and what we have will never be the same; what we want and what we need will never coincide, either.

I miss it all tonight. I think, though, that what I'm really missing, most of all, is myself.