Blue Orchids (DHR)
She's a girl in a pretty veil.
She dresses herself in blossoms,
treasures those little daisies.
But I see her, soiled,
in a resplendent turmoil.
She's exultant
in a catastrophe.
I would clasp her hand
and run past this dismal truth.
But she has long kept me
her prisoner—
A deity,
one she'd never offer glory to.
She's a winner,
the vanquisher.
And yet all she ever flaunted
were her ruptures before me.
She lives her days in summer,
yet yearns for a long-lost winter.
She cherished daisies,
now she has only ever liked orchids,
the ones that bloom in blue.
She dons her pearl cloak,
yet ruins slip past her pearls.
She's vigorous
within a melancholy,
terrified it might perish.
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