Blue

It comes off a little on the nose

But who knows what you really mean by it

And the irony isn't lost on me

The desire for myself is to be

Unapologetically faithful to the words that come out

Even when they're words I hate the meaning of

Or the sound they make when they rattle off my tongue

Or when they exist in some other thing I've done

It's recycled, taken off a dumped notepad

Kept in a drawer for months or more and

Taken out when everything else washes up