Borrowed Blue

What had this furious one won through mischievous deeds?


A soliloquy of sorrow, borrowed blue, an intense void.

She appeared on a whim on a moonless night.






Her hair, golden silk, shielding saddened eyes.

Trembling voice,

trembling hand.

It was just an act; no impending fate.

Once the tears and blood had dried

I tried to understand.

But by then, borrowed blue, it was much too late…

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