we used to dream of blue skies
blue flowers
and
blue worlds

sitting on the old chairs waiting for days
without walls
and we would dream of

a blue that stretches forever and is dotted with stars and clouds and beauty
a delicate blue made of thin papers
gentle wishes
and the things you say to the moon when the world falls asleep

we'd sit on our old chairs and say pretty things
to hide the ugly truth
and make up stories that don't make sense
but it's ok

because we don't make sense
and neither do our dreams
of a blue emptiness that doesn't care
and blue specks that wish they could

we sat on those chairs
and waited
for the walls to fall out
but they collapsed in

and you dreamt of pills
the colour of the sky
and I dreamt of screens the colour of flowers
and we made

our artificial
blue
world

made of all the things we hate
and pretty things
and pretty dreams
and

the
colour
blue