Blueprints

Blueprints

Re-inking my color by number blueprints in a septuplet rainbow of tomorrows

Each day a hue and a ray and I will say I own you for me and not yesterday

The possibilities are endless

The crevices will end this silence

With a pit and a sentence and a failure to mention past nomenclature

Rainy season and the colors that seemed to season

This shrimp stew of the pieces of loving you in frays on a rope

Slipping the knots of untangling this hope into sesame seeds

Scattered on a floor underneath the bottom edge

Of cabinets bled down to the red oak hard wood I slumped upon

In a memory of the form of that which I have come

The sum of yesterdays and I have paid

The toll for this road a thousand times bought and sold and yet

I can not afford you like a moral argument of the heart

There is no place for us to start, what you want I can not give

I am the by product of the mistakes of other bends and bled

There are only so many words I could have said

I spoke them all and I still was not able to call

Your name in the night in the tone and pitch that could quell

The fear or parch the thirst for all of this that will not burst

Out form the conjoining of where our lives could survive

In our wants morphing into two blue and red butterflies on the hunt

A purple girl with bedding and blind to that inch a way over that line

Where the rainbow begins and you can grasp the stairway with a foot

To the incline of where we could begin with closed eyes

But so much possibility and yet fractured in the pragmatism like a sober troglodyte

Defined by what was in place of what is to be

And I want to look to your heaven and wait