It is difficult to know what is right in all cases. - M.B., I.210.29

Seven Colors - Blue



You said you had a story
So I borrowed ink from the ocean,
You splashed it on the sky,
Concurrently bruising the moon,

The ink wasn't enough! you said,
And wanted more, as usual.
The river under the bridge
smelled of fish; nauseating,

Your story was a semicircle,
Doomed to be unfinished,
The blue rose that you gave me
Was crossbred; it made me sick,

The night will blot the chapters,
The bruised moon will laugh at you,
Even so, a blue star will sacrifice itself
To grant you a wish; make one.










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