A Shade of Blue

There’s a shade of blue

that doesn’t live in the sky.

It settles quieter than that—

in the space between breaths,

in the silence after a name

you don’t say anymore.

It isn’t loud enough

to call itself sadness.

It doesn’t break things.

It just… stays.

Like dusk

that never quite turns to night,

like water

that looks still

but pulls at you underneath.

It shows up in small ways—

in songs you don’t skip

but don’t quite listen to,

in moments that feel almost full

but not enough to hold onto.

You learn to carry it.

That’s the strange part.

Fold it into your days,

wear it like something soft

that doesn’t ask to be noticed

but never lets you forget

it’s there.

And sometimes—

in a flicker you didn’t expect—

that blue

catches a little light,

and for a second

it looks like something else.

Not happiness.

Not pain.

Just a color

that means

you felt something

and it stayed.