Blue.
Like him.

She's blue.
Like the sky.

Filled with winter rain drizzling finely
Waiting to be released.

Asks why.
Why on earth words of truth.

Became contorted into lies.
Lifted as haze over the morning stream.

Hovering as heavy vapour.
Weighing on her troubled mind.

The lady thinks.
Maybe much too much.

A timid touch.
Her gloves are violet velvet.

Streaked with stripes of sun's touch.
Not so long ago.

Oh so cute.
He was so **** cute.

She the dame, whose tongue now muted.
The lady for who,

His love for her, he disputed.
Was so vilely refuted.

Words spoken and wrote.
Fell onto eyes and the ears of the stubborn old goat.

Such spite shown.
Think she needs a drink.

Feeling green.
He's making her sick.

Maybe she's mean.
Okay
Afraid she's not.

She thinks,
She sports a smile.
Masking the tears.

Sometimes she's mellow.
Sometimes she's not.

But rare moments of magic.
Such magic never will be forgot.

All she has left is a heart.
A beautiful heart vacant and hollow.



By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)