Heart of Stone

It was a painted puzzle of a poet in the rain. we were somewhere in New Jersey blowing bubbles on a train. She ate her last Dorito and scribbled down a line, about a shattered goblet full of poisoned berry wine. she didn't see the changes all around her shadowed form and how the color ranges left the spectrum of the norm. she thought she fell asleep and dreamed of dandelions and home her open eyes transitioned as she turned to hardest stone. Her density had doubled up and doubled once again every time she turned her face and failed to help a friend, I put her in my pocket and I put her on my desk her heart of stone , is mine to own T'was I who loved her best.