♦️🔸️💎🔸️♦️🔹️💎🔹️♦️🔸️💎🔸️♦️

Blue

Blue, not black – the color of death.

’Tis true. It’s a blue.

Dark, deep, it swallows light.

Blue so deep it’s the darkest night.

It’s frigid. It’s viscous.

It’s a clogging blue.

It backs up.

It freezes.

It captivates and suffocates.

It stops and rots.

It’s the blue of pain,

and bruises,

and stagnant blood.

It’s the blue that never comes back.

It’s the blue right before black.

———

I’ve struggled with deep emotional pain for most of my life. Every day, I’m confronted with a few choices—often between doing nothing or choosing to live another day. Writing these poems has helped me externalize what I’ve spent so long holding inside.

My hope in sharing them is simple: that someone might read these words, feel a spark of connection, and trust what I say here—

If you or someone you know is struggling with thoughts of self-harm or suicide, please get help. Call or text 988 to reach the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline, available 24/7. You are not alone.

Rainer Maria Rilke, from The Selected Poems of Rainer Maria Rilke; "You See, I Desire a Lot,"