no prussian blue lullabies
'electric blue' has never done your eyes justice.
electricity has been tamed, with all of her secrets thrown open in the autopsy; her rebellions are short-lived despite their charred aftermath. it's all about the attention, really; she knows that her spine is chained to backbreaking circuits, her fingers to fast-fading bulbs and her words to delicate sparks. she barely protests any more, accepting her confinement and tirelessly pumping, breathing her energy into those objects that crave her life.
but your irises, boy, have never known the rein.
they are the glint of ice in the arctic, the head-on crash of poolwater with the sun. they are the sky wrestling with the earth, their azure tones blazing to shame a star and perhaps a few galaxies, if they felt the need to prove it- prove what, they're not really sure, but they're sure to find out, if their shrill colour is any indication.
no prussian blue lullabies float from under your lashes, their lapping gyrations casting spangled shadows