by Wandering Muse

Created on: March 04, 2010

Blue is for you.

Not true,

not sky sweetened with summer zephyrs,

no

Yours is ice

glacial

the calm calculating eye in a mad storm.

You overwhelmed me with your frigidness

and dragged me under your cocoon of cold

and left me there to fend for myself

drowned

bottled up

not awake.

You are also white

pale with a nameless grief that eats you from the outside in

turns your colourless hands to abusive claws

twists your voice into a fierce shriek

as kettles shriek

as clouds that pour from volcanoes shriek and scream and hiss

as they hit the cold salty sea.

You remain unmoved by it all,

thinking you cannot help but wound.

You have been black

dark as tar and sullen and angry

dull lightning in a devastating sudden summer storm

oily black thunderheads roiling toward my horizons

menacing and murderous and mean.

You are white and black and blue

cold and unstoppable and hateful

threaded with a jealous green I never understood.

Why are you surprised I ran away

from your unanswerable onslaught

from your sudden chills and dark accusing glances,

...to someone who was warm and golden

hazel green of new summer and new roads,

passionate red to your cool manipulation;

and he did not try to break me open

to see raw red inside,

he held me when I mourned for your cold blue smile

he made me feel safe from your storm,

and his eyes change as mine do

hot chocolate brown, curious green, molten gold.

I ran from your Hel, your land of blue ice and inky shadows

to a world full of gold and hazel and laughter and

warm orange fire, indigo poetry,

and soothing cadence of mint green speech

and calming violet embraces.

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