borrowed blue

What had this furious one won through mischievous deeds?
Solace.
A soliloquy of sorrow, borrowed blue, an intense void.
She appeared on a whim on a moonless night.
If
only
I’d
known
her.
Her hair, golden silk, shielding saddened eyes.
Trembling voice,
trembling hand.
It was just an act; no impending fate.
Once the tears and blood had dried
I tried to understand.
But by then, borrowed blue, it was much too late…

PP032cv-Picasso_Blue-Nude1

“Reason is, and ought only to be the slave of the passions, and can never pretend to any other office than to serve and obey them.” – David Hume, A Treatise of Human Nature

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