Bruises

It's so dark outside
listening to the crickets drown,
but I check my twitter instead.
 
Blue is keeping me awake
or so the scientists say:
"subjects sustain a high rate of alertness".
 
I must be feeling blue then,
subtweeting your name;
i can't see the letters on the screen.
 
Your face painted blue.
Blue fingers, hands,
etched into my blue screen.
 
The sky, darker than the rest
it ushers me asleep,
dampening you to black.
 
My striped blue comforter is quiet.
The shadows on my blue wall dance,
I rest, your blue is now black.