POETS MISCHIEVOUS
Yes I do hear it,
your voice, blue in colour.
Strange wavelengths!
They reach me when you look away,
lost in thought, with a vacant look.
They tell me in secret,about your vanity,
how you fake distances and strangeness.
That the you, before me,
is just a shadow of what you really are.
A red tinted word pecks at my heart,
listen to the blue, listen to the blue, it says.
Wandering through verses,
locating and relocating their exact latitudes,
strange poets we become.
Our hearts sing in voices blue,
but we tell ourselves, it is still day.
The red tinted words multiply.
The blue voices turn raucous.
Such mischievous lovers!
