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Summer of Poetry: Untitled Poem 4


The doctor asked how the meds
were working for me,
but I was too engrossed
in the haziness outside.
It was daylight
but not bright.
Blue, but not blue.
Grey, but not grey.
Not-grey, not-blue,
full of clouds that glow
like fire when the sun begins to set.
Curiously, I cannot see the sun.
No sun. No clouds.
Just a blanket of not-blue
covering all above
until I've forgotten what blue looked like.
Oppressive and unimpressive.
Real and light, but shades of wrong
The sky, never truly dark anymore,
but also, not quite right.
But I've forgotten what the sky looks like
and now it's all not-blue, yet not-grey.
"I guess it's working" I reply,

still lost in the wrong colors outside
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