The Blue Lady


"Blue was always my colour," she says,
It's that neutral place were the waves cease to crash,
The fading white glow from the destinied backlash,
And she tells me over and over in the same blank tone,
"I'm the one between the joy and the jealously,
I'm the strength between fragile and delicacy."

I just nod, of course,
What else should I do?
I don't live in a world where black's the new blue,
"Sing to me," I ask, and she just blinks in that way,
Clears her throat with a simple, clean cough,
And rings out a tune in the same monotone,
Ends on a high note with the same humming drone.

"I've never climbed a hill, you know," she admits,
Her lips don't move, she doesn't smile,
"I guess it means I've never walked down."
She doesn't smirk, she resists a frown,
"Ever wish for the reds and the greens?" I ask,
"What about the bumps and the bends in the road?"
Thought she was going to laugh for a minute,
But she just blinks in that way again,
"I don't see how you can miss what you didn't have,
"I'm not going to mourn what I never had."

Her pale hand refuses to shake,
And she lays flat and lifeless, awaiting death row,
On a bed with a blue pillow and a matching blue throw,
"I'm sorry," I whisper, in my hopeless defeat,
And I catch a glimpse; a flash of regret in her eyes,
And I see the lone tear as the lady flatlines.