Blue and white
My home, my quiet refuge, kept in perpetual watch
On the outside pristine walls
Immaculate surface reflecting sky’s light
Misery coloured by blue and white
A little porch with a bench feels almost amicable
Please have a seat, but don’t make yourself too comfortable
Quiet as it kept, in my own lone familiar way I’m hiding what’s vulnerable. What if they see…?
Plants that shrivelled and died, under-watered or perchance overwatered, flooded with choices
Stairs that requite every misstep with a chorus of plaintive voices
A gash on the ceiling, arousing tension between two puzzles, both equally appealing
To fill the vacant spaces or keep them sealed
That one room where everything meets and at times, startlingly enough, disappear without a trace
Unspoken fears that pressed against the walls left peeled paint in its place
And askew bedside lamp, a night time witness to my despair
I could have possibly taken joy in owning it. That seems about right. But instead, I’ll just give them blue and white
Copyright © Julia Slebioda | Year Posted 2026
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