Blue, Isabelle Wilson

Blue

Blue. Blue is two-faced, Turning its back on you when you don’t give it your full attention. When you are in need, Blue deserts you. Blue is the one that makes you trip down the stairs and walk into glass doors Blue is a stalker, You can’t escape it. Blue is everywhere you look. Blue is the wait until your birthday, No end. Blue is the one hiding in the corner, The baby crying next door. Blue is the shock of bone-chilling air when you walk outside and into the snow. Blue is a brain, full of ideas, good and bad. Blue is a pen full of tears instead of ink. Blue isn’t anything special.

But, If blue wasn’t here, I would feel like I was missing something important.

Blue. Blue is thick and murky, Yet light and airy. Blue is the water ebbing at my feet at the beach. Blue feels like a soft blanket fresh out of the drier. Blue is the paint escaping my paintbrush and a plain white canvas. Blue is the one that comforts you when you are down. Blue is how I sleep tranquilly on a rainy night Blue is the inspirational music that flows out of an instrument. Blue is the one that takes a long bus ride just to come see you. Blue is the magical feeling that bubbles up in your stomach as you take your first step onto the roller coaster car.

Isabel Wilson