blue on black
i appeared in front of you
naked as my gaze's color;
(how blue can you get...)
i left you to lure my mind
with hope and joy of days;
each day became (today)
created mentally, (salut...),
it metamorphosed itself
into topic α΅α΄ΌDΚ³α΅α΅α΅Aα΅α΅α΅α΅Yα΅α΅‧‧‧
sunrises were lune-poems,
noons were flash fiction,
nights, a story in six-words
masterminded by music
from season to season
love played its game well
(nor friends), (nor lovers),
as Mystique, as Mysterio,
we acted... as characters
we've frenglishly... deeply,
we paid in smiley coins and
we ended as we started...
two of us, blue on black,
playing “truth is like poetry
even if most folks hate it”
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