Home is where the blue lives

I can't go home.

He says: "Why don't you just

go home for the day?" but home is where

the blue lives.

As blue does, as the ocean may:

it suffocates.

Though as colors go, the blue changes

shades on a whim. Just today, it decided

it was starless as the dark. Black

and blue suits me; I too

seem fractured inside.

Just today

when I did everything right. I washed

my sheets, spread them on the bed

good enough for royalty herself. I dusted,

I wiped, I bought healthy groceries.

(Healthy enough for me). I even cleaned

myself up.

But home is not a lack of dust

or a meal.

Home is where the blue lives.