The time when while making love, everything turned to blue.
It was an Yves Klein blue, but even deeper. Bluer.
Everything was covered in a silky dust of blue.
The air was blue. The bedroom walls were blue. We embraced on sheets of blue.
My hair around your face was blue. Your breath warm against my neck was blue. My neck was blue. The valleys where our flesh met were blue. My wanting you was blue. Your cock was blue.
The infinite inside me was blue. My heartbeat was blue. When we kissed, your tongue across my lips was blue.
People having gin, laughing at the corner bar were blue and their gin too. The sound of rain was blue and so were the passing cars splashing by.
The ground was blue. The trees were covered in blue. There were blue seagulls flying in the sky. The sky was blue.
There was a heap of fine blue flour on the kitchen counter. The kitchen was blue.
When I rolled on my back and you gripped to stay with me, your fingerprints around my shoulders were blue. And when you descended below, inside my eyelids turned blue.
You said you loved me and your voice was blue. Then you disappeared and your absence was blue. No you, no them, just me left in blue. And when I dissolved, every particle was blue.
The wind was blue. The moon was blue. The ocean, blue. The waves crashing on rocks were blue. The rocks were blue.
God was blue. The Revolution, blue. All the Buddhas were blue. The Nazis were blue. My mother was blue. And your dead wife too.
Then you called me back to my body and my trembled return was blue. And when you came to meet me, your will to stay was blue. Deep and soft and vivid blue.
And when I opened my eyes, all I could see was blue and more blue and more blue.
Mazzy Star. She’s My Baby from So Tonight That I Might See