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.