existence.

"Sad stuff makes beautiful poetry, but it's not so pretty to live with." [-Merecat]
*For the Dear Diary Competition*
(I recommend anything beyond 'Tumbling Ash' for the rest is a mess of nonsense words that hold no character, no story and absently fill the page)

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44. Dive Bombs

 

Birds keep dive-bombing outside my window,

and as I stare through the dirty glass

I can't help but follow the

looping patterns they spiral

in around the air.

 

The smallest are the fastest

and I suppose more daring.

Miniscule black outlines swooping against

clouds dyed grey,

gliding un-steadily

like the sky were the rolling waves of the sea,

and their feathers were

coloured surfboards.

 

I look up at the sky and wish

it were blank like a canvas so I could

paint it

with all the brightest and prettiest colours that exist.

Those dreamy descriptions of sunsets in books,

tangerine fading into lemon into bubble gum into violet.

But I would splatter the sky and then

swirl the edges so they softly blend into the other colours.

 

Like a lavender in one corner,

not cold like the usual flat colour seen when I come home

but instead like the flower had sprung into

the depths of spring

and perhaps I would mix in a little bit of lilac,

so it became exceptionally purple.

 

Then near it,

splatter a mint green,

pastel but fresh like the leaves of the plant

and blend in the edges to conjoin with the purple mess

to make a gorgeous

lavenderylilacymintygreeny fusion.

Maybe that'd make a good herbal tea?

 

I would use the pink from whisps of candyfloss

and then red from the satins of romantic hearts

or the scarlet from dark nail polish

 so part could look like a circus,

with the sugary pink and the ruby red like the flaps of the

striped tents.

 

Yellow like the zests of lemon

so bright that you have to blink a few times

and then orange like the gold slinky in my room.

Blue like the sparkle of the ocean

and amber like crackling embers.

 

I would have all of the colours and it would be

spectacular.

Better than the Northern Lights or the World Wonders.

That sky would be an astounding creation,

and it would be my astounding creation.

 

I'll stand with interlinked fingers,

watching people's expressions as they take in the vibrancies that

decorate the sky,

laughing at the curled 'o' mouths and

grinning at the small, lit smiles.

I could be accepted and appreciated

and maybe,

just maybe,

loved.

 

-Monday 6th July

 

 

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