Connotations not Definitions


My closet is full of blue, with a few olive greens thrown in for contrast,

but my favorite color is orange.

 Not the florescent kind

but peachy orange of a sunset in winter

Orange that streaks the skies

Like the orchids that streaks my hand with their pollen.


Orchid that leaves its sweet floral scent on my hands

Like my perfume gently leaves its lavender and roses on my neck

Waiting for someone to notice its subtlety


My handwriting curves to the left-

Unusual they say.

I like it

It flows like the path

Under my blue Mizunos

or the rain on the windshield of my jeep,

While I sing alone

Because no one else will listen.


There is beauty in things

We do not understand.

Axons and dendrites

The unseen yellow of electrical connections

Unlimited thoughts that race through

My head as it spins

While I try to sleep.





They always use these words

Not fun-loving



No these are never my words

These are someone else’s words

Those words are reserved for someone who’s

Out on a Friday

Not sitting taking care of someone’s children

 or doing AP Physics homework


But to me its okay

I am proud of my words

Crimson bitter words

Meaning more than



Loyalty, Trust

Words that imply

More than intensity

but passion



Words have definitions

But also connotations

And my future is what people think

But is not written

This poem is about: 
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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