“Some will win. Some will lose. Some were born to sing the blues”
echoes
Journey’s song on the radio.
Night is as dark as the coffee I drink.
2
am. Smoke of cigarettes creates a haze,
not a White haze but a Blue one.
The sound
of silence is broken by the shattering of the glass.
The shards of glass are strewn across the floor.
2:16 am, the Blue haze still
persistent.
I pick up a few pieces and observe them,
some catch my fancy and some
instantly make me uneasy.
Shards of glass like debris of memories lie motionless
on the floor, glistening in the
light.
I look through a piece. All that I feel and see are Blue
memories.
Blue. Not Black. Not White. But
Blue.
No, I’m not colour blind. I know the world is Black and
White.
Beyond the dichromatic hues, only
the shades of Blue are visible.
I drop all the pieces and by mistake step on a piece of
glass.
I bleed Blue.