I am summer’s multiple flavors;
white and airy and floating,
black and wet and passionately hungry,
brown and murky and rushing unchallenged.
I am summer in the midst of
the blue lit and dry striking winter.
I am an 80 degree day in late February;
triumphant as an eccentricity of nature,
loved dishonestly and only briefly.
Red lips.
Blue eyes.
Purple streaks
Throughout my hair.
Yellow baby doll tee
Orange polka dot socks
Green pair of panties
On the floor.
I wonder if that is all he sees
In color when he looks at me.
I met him on the corner of Second and Main
One afternoon, walking home from nowhere.
He stood so still, I tried not to stare.
Benjamin Knight, military sniper, code-name Reaper.
In his voice I heard dark rooms filled with secret deserts
And the sound of bones breaking from
The mercenary desolation of subsisting.
But in his eyes I saw the shadows, darker than any nightmare,
Splinter around the dreams he keeps locked away.
I hate to admit that some days I think I’m invisible.
At my core I’m introverted and admittedly
Sometimes I come across as anti-social;
But what else am I to think
When even my imaginary friends
Stop talking to me?
642 Poems and More 