Christmas Lights, Blue

Serenity…it's taunting. Looking at me, knowing how badly I want it. Crave it, long for it, throb for it. A pulsing wanting. I want to wrap it around me and feel it on me and suck the peace out of it, taking and giving all myself; back and forth.
Christmas Lights, Blue. That's what he said. That was Serenity to him. Not Christmas Light Blue but Christmas Lights COMMA Blue.
I saw some on the way home, wrapped around a little tree that guarded the driveway. Christmas Lights, Blue. The tree did look calm. It wasn't illuminating anything or leading anyone anywhere. Just wrapped in Serenity, but not in the same way I fantasize. It was tangled and tied. So maybe the tree wasn't so calm, as much as silenced.

Why that color? That color of perfect blue eyes lit with fog lamps. It's not harsh or hard to look at, it doesn't warm you like some others, it just is. Simply there. Crisp and blue. And it chills you as if you needed it on a cold December night. Is that Serenity? To some, I guess.
My Serenity is more like the wind, dancing across my neck and swirling around my feet. Or like a sticky lover, totally taken with my hands. Or even a dark theatre and empty stage, and I lie there, allowing my self to be enveloped by that massive darkness.
But maybe there is something to be said for a string of Christmas Light, Blue Serenity. Something that quakes with hot electricity yet sends chills down the spine. Oxymoronic in its strange serene existence…the opposite of my sticky, breezy, darkness, but still as taunting and tempting.