Ultramarine
It’s the point of no return.
Eyes dive in, swim, drown, refuse rescue.
Denser than black,
fiercer than blood,
a telepathy of purple,
a saturation of half-remembered yearnings.
It’s an incest of shades,
blue impregnating blue a hundred, a thousand times,
until light is aborted,
but its afterimage persists.
It’s a blue cocktail in a blue bar,
into which a lone teardrop
from a woman’s face falls,
but whether of sadness or of joy,
none will know.
It’s a mystery too deep,
an ecstasy too blinding,
a feeling that sears like a dream.
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