Blue spilled on rough skin—too bright

Blue spilled on rough skin—too bright,

sharp and electric against dull flesh.

It stains deeper than paint,

catching light in a hard, cold burn.

Fingers smeared with that fierce color,

like the sudden flare of something alive.

A flash of cobalt in a gray world,

cutting through the blur, sharp and raw.

It won’t wash off, won’t fade away,

this blue that bites into my skin.

A mark of contrast, a jolt of now,

where quiet moments crack and sting.