The Perfect Metaphor for Pale Blue

So I sit, pen poised,
as my mind reaches out to grasp
the perfect metaphor
for pale blue –
I fill a page with superficial words
when what I really want is to tell you
that I might not believe in God,
or that I cry over the perfect tragedy
I read about in books,
and that I sometimes question
the power of my dreams.

I write about music and
I write about love,
but it all just seems so meaningless
when what I really want
is to drag you down into the depths of my mind,
simultaneously consumed by fire
and drenched in your perfect pale blue,
where I wonder –
wonder what you fear the most,
or dream of in the summer,
but rendered helpless to ask.

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