The Room Was Blue
Silence has teeth
it’s where violence blooms
It grew
in the corners of my room
slow
like mold
it infected my memories
No voices spoke out
No breaks were given to me
Only the weight of the “situation” lingered
The medicine came in quiet hands
but it never worked on me
I was unraveling
Rotting inward
I still can’t handle the truth
I’m far too tired to scream
So I let it take over
Ravaging my insides
The door was busted open
Red devoured it all
Licking his fingers
Yes
He likes to do it raw
Red burned through me
Again and… again
He said I make him strong
He says I’m only for him
The room was blue
but not like the sky
only because Red liked to be inside
it’s where violence blooms
It grew
in the corners of my room
slow
like mold
it infected my memories
No voices spoke out
No breaks were given to me
Only the weight of the “situation” lingered
The medicine came in quiet hands
but it never worked on me
I was unraveling
Rotting inward
I still can’t handle the truth
I’m far too tired to scream
So I let it take over
Ravaging my insides
The door was busted open
Red devoured it all
Licking his fingers
Yes
He likes to do it raw
Red burned through me
Again and… again
He said I make him strong
He says I’m only for him
The room was blue
but not like the sky
only because Red liked to be inside
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This poem is raw, visceral, and filled with layered metaphor—The Room Was Blue is a chilling blend of inner torment, trauma, and personified violence. It walks the edge between literal and surreal, with Red as a symbolic monstrous figure of violation and control.
Public Collections Containing This Poem
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The Room Was Blue
PoetAbigail Blacknall
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Alexithymia
PoetAbigail Blacknall
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