little blue flowers

the poetic bride

i fall asleep
and dream of days
void of dark and light
and grays

but there's no wish
i can make to be
someone more
than colorless
me.

too poetic?
she thought in silence
her rhythms off
her tempo's cadence

pounding her head
in terrific time
do i need more feeling?
do i need more rhyme?

it makes no sense
to explain her thunder
in constricted lines
that blubber and blunder

but she has nothing else
no other way to keep warm
her fiancé's left
for the eye of the storm

her friends split long
before she put thoughts to page
and a worry line fits her brow
made of blue tattered rage

her body is swollen
and bloated with sorrow
no love's left its seeds
to be planted tomorrow

in another time
in another place
this blood of hers cries
across her arms; stains her face

but she's poetic, it's true
and her words never falter
til she's begging for a quick death
on her knees at the altar.