where we don't lay

i’ve always hated how blue the frame is. it’s not a somber blue soaked in the edgy passive aggressive tones. not even a pastel blue either, light and airy capable of elevating the mood. it’s a muggy mishmash of blues and green capable of holding in all of the parts that I hate of myself. I hear it whisper past aggressions like sweet nothings, tampering with my dreams. so i’ve found myself sitting on the floor, trying yet again to write a poor worded ballad. hoping that it doesn’t hear the kind words we try to tell each other. yet again another sleepless night, and she’s not even here to wish me goodnight.