Blue.
Blue
Blue
Blue
Blue Blue Blue Blue-
Yes,
Those eyes were blue.
Or,
As she would say,
Bleu~
(And I’ll be your rose-)
Blue,
But not that of oceans.
(The Atlantic wouldn\'t dare to reach such depths-)
No,
Her eyes were blue as the stars,
Those that burned far brighter than any others.
(But not a flame of white, for I could not live if she were to supernova-)
Burning blue,
She is far more blinding than any star.
Sometimes I catch myself staring for too long.
(The afterburn still echoes in my vision-)
Face tinted rose and bleu.
She tries to hide beneath makeup,
But I think the color should be coveted in museums,
A perfect shade that none could never match.
(Not even the finest of machines could dream to do so-)
I stare at the night sky,
In all its unending wonder,
And I see the depths of her irises beneath shadows.
I stare at the noon clouds,
A painting of pretty pastels,
And I see her shine beneath stage light.
I stare at the sunlit horizon,
With its violet undertones,
And laugh,
For it could never come close to her in the dim streetlight.
(Everywhere I go these sunspots torment me-)
They laugh with me,
For those eyes and I both know
That nothing else will ever come close to their brilliance.
Before we met,
Blue was my favorite color.
Now?
It is the only color I see.
(So I smile,
With my faltering eyes stained a sun bleached green-
Knowing that the stars were never in my reach.)