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Deeply Blue Indigo Hued

DEEPLY BLUE

Your grief, as anger on your skin, tattooed
with hornet stings, I’ve scraped red raw again.
I see you deeply blue, indigo hued.

From deep articulate wells, you yell blood
curdling echoes of your past. You display
your grief as anger on your skin. Tattooed

drum beats protest, berate, constant and loud.
My love can’t penetrate the noise you make,
I see. You, deeply blue, indigo hued

by fossilised recollections of abuse
I don’t recognise, are stultified as pain.
Your grief as anger on your skin tattooed.

Slinging stones remorselessly, you’re good
at hurting, wounding, searing with your aim.
I see you deeply blue, indigo hued.

You choose to proffer me your open wound.
Prefer, to my voice, your scarlet futile stain.
Your grief as anger on your skin tattooed
I see you deeply blue indigo hued.

INDIGO HUED

I shall not speak again, shall not pursue
you, beg you not to misconstrue, assure
I loved you in the only way I knew.

The time is done, I did not protect you
in ways you needed, wanted me to do.
I shall not speak again, shall not pursue

emotions you have refused me. Although
my memories of joy have slipped from view.
I loved you in the only way I knew.

Your vehement, violent screamings of abuse
echo in my head, bounce around the room
I shall not speak again, shall not pursue

the past, as if we could begin anew,
undo mistakes, bridge chasms, plaster wounds.
I loved you in the only way I knew.

I broke convention’s chains by loving you;
boldly caught a kite’s tail in a tornado.
I shall not speak again, shall not persuade you
I loved you in the only way I knew.

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