deepundergroundpoetry.com

Indigo

Somewhere...
the paintbrush ends, and
flesh, begins--
absorbing pigments, meant
for methemoglobin skin.

So blue.
Undeniably noticeable.

They immerse in color
of royalty, casually (suttlely)
draped as if taunting
lapis lazuli
to be jealous of indigo's weather-worn
hues.

Each day is greeted
with the sweat of toil on taut muscles,
paying homage to
the green-skied dawn.

Some have built dreams on sand, while
they have built theirs
on stone and spheres, with
a blue so becoming
that even angels held their breath
for a moment.
Written by MadameLavender
Published
Author's Note
Written for Missy's "Girl on a Ball" comp
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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