Clear blue ink
Her painted green fingers
Spread on paper , making patches ..
Patches not wide , not blue not blood
But of demon love .
He knows he is not the blue she is soaked in .
Far from dream of the scholar said he the cypress.
Cypress drenched in blue since ten had witnessed love and demons.
Coming from the time where lovers were two legs of a compass..
He said she is still there, still the same , not moving . Evolving not in love but with ink..
Writing down her strings of black and what she fought for.
Coloured her land in the dark woods of flowing fear.
Said cypress to himself . I took her from far from glistening oracle.
Far from demon love to love .