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màu xanh
May 27, 2013
the color called blue
is a relative compass to the abstract sky,
it is the meek wind
to the otherwise faded sea,
it is the arctic tone
that muffles the inferno of blood,
it is the damp grief that slips
down the tinged blush of bitter faces,
it is the troubled minor
who tries to piece his cracked self together,
it is the water that flows from the heart
when it gets pierced with the spike of love,
and
it is the soul that bids a soft farewell
to the lifeless body that has served it well
© Joseph B., Mesquite, TX
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