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Portrait In Indigo -She Dreamed of Icarus
**~~** She seemed to be like a delicate portrait which had fallen from its gilded frame Abandoned, lying face down on the cold winter floor An elegant portrait once painted In resplendent hues of indigo blue Her eyes told a story of bittersweet magenta colored sorrows bathed in tears that etched themselves throughout The frail intricately, woven canvas of her soul Over time thoughtless hands had subtly Contrived to manipulate the beauty Of her painted portrait into a resemblance Likened to that of a cold, chiseled statue Carelessly molded by calloused fingers Lancinating the fragile fragments Of her spirit leaving her heart With etiolated worn fabric - called her life She dreamed of Icarus soaring down on silvery wings of steel shrouded in cobalt and lavender clouds with outstretched, feathery fingers lifting her up to dance a Stravinsky ballet As it was meant to be - not how it was She was a beautiful, fragile butterfly bruised by a world much too harsh for her diminished spirit leaving her unable to fly away from the skis thirsty rains making it difficult for her to fly away from the skis thirsty rains It left her struggling to stay afloat In the springs melting snow Life had bruised her tender skin Gnawing away like insatiable insects On her delicate pink frescoed soul Leaving her feeling Like a fabricated manikin on display For all to pose her as they may Muddied soil was the blood that coursed through her veins, holding her tethered heart in fleshy, mounds of chocolate brown earth It held her helpless in its hold clogged by the silt which descended down Into spaces of her soul… Like murky strings of yellow tattered maize Leaving their ragged tassels tangled Throughout her life flowing veins Choking off the blood she needed To nourish her hungry heart Mighty winds toppled her willowy limber tree Snapping the delicate boughs Of her outstretched arms As they pulled at the tender fleshy bark of her skin She stood cold and alone In the icy winter night wrapped Only in her wounded, naked flesh With open, bleeding wounds Under the icy blue mist of the winter moon Her heart and soul painfully revealed... In shades of indigo blue **~~**
Copyright © 2024 Anne P. Murray. All Rights Reserved

Book: Shattered Sighs