Blue Blood
in sandy palms
that hold saline memories
seagull tracks
towering whitecaps
that turn into dusky lupine glaze
shamrock seaweed coils around ankles
dragging you into its blue blood
submerged in the calm
at peace
last bits of air popping
as they barely reach the surface
floating between the hues
of navy and indigo blues
currents,
powerfully fragile
Taking a step back
was it just a dream?
lacquered ridges snap
in on one another
stabbing holes in plump flesh
crying out
salty showers
that stops
when tears splatter onto
trickling
blue blood
Posted On: https://youngwritersproject.org/node/34364
0 comments