the slow art of breathing bitter

Smokey Blue

And she was a flower in his little blue vase of glass.

He kissed her petals gently, oh so gently—

In the tender sunlight.

While she felt so cold,

the skies would be smokey blue.

For flowers bleed, they never celebrate.

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A/N: Which type of blue is your favorite color? Let me know in the comments, and tap the little star in the top right corner, if you liked this! :)