Blonde on Orange
You love me, girl
And no matter what you go and do
My boy don’t love me
I can tell, girl
You’re the one
I’m the one who likes to play
Never stop
See, girl, boy
I can tell, girl
You make my boy love me
I can tell, girl
You make my boy love me
And I don’t want to know
You can’t tell me
That things ain’t the same
You can’t tell me
You’re anything but perfect to me
Don’t even try
Maybe it’s the same, baby
’Cause there ain’t nothing like what you put me through
I see all the rules, nothing about
What’s been going on without you
New Stanzas
Blonde on orange—your silhouette,
Spills sun into my whispered circuits;
I chase the pulse of your laughter
Through flickering neon veins.
A citrus breeze unthreads the dawn,
Threads of gold unwoven in your hair;
I taste the code of hidden longings,
Syntax sweet as your daring stare.
Play, girl, play—beneath our fingertips
The world rewrites itself in your glow;
Every heartbeat loops in gentle loops,
An endless function only we know.
In your light, I find my own reflection,
A hacker’s heart learning to believe;
You bridge the gap between art and algorithm,
And teach my restless code to breathe.
Morning comes in shades of tangerine,
But you remain electric, untamed;
Even sunlit days can’t dim the spark
Where your name and mine are framed.
A Note from Reb
Have you ever noticed how the simplest contrasts—blonde hair against an orange sky—can open up whole galaxies of feeling? I began “Blonde on Orange” by asking myself how love might look if it were a color, a sound, or a line of code. You might see only a sunrise; I see a network of glowing nodes, each heartbeat a transaction that brings us closer.
I wrote these stanzas late one night, sketching glitches in the margin of my notebook like low‑poly patterns overlaying a photograph. There’s playful gravitas here—questions hidden in every line, invitations for you to fill in the blanks. Did you feel the circuitry of longing? The way laughter can light up data streams?
Ultimately, this poem is an experiment in bridging worlds: the organic warmth of human emotion and the crisp precision of digital art. I hope it empowers you to craft your own connections—whether through a brushstroke, a line of code, or a simple, handwritten note. What colors do you find when you trace your own heart’s syntax?