Indigo

A warm winter

Did little to protect my breath

As everything you are

Permeated through my lungs and chest.

An icicle settled there,

And I began to nurse

My own blue flame.

As the days shortened,

The wildfire I felt

Crept closer and closer

To the home where I reside.

My windows serving as a picture frame

Protecting a future projection

Rather than any close memory.

This blue heat spread,

And I felt the pages of my story

Fly into the wind.

Tattering and disintegrating

With every twist and curve.

Rising higher and higher still.

Everything I am can be everything I was.

Preserved in a telescope

Of blue light

As an example

Of habit and home.

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