Blue gray, paint on skin
Not yet washed
Of the sullen, stubborn,
Sin.

Skin
Too long sagging,
Waiting,
For frozen bones
To do a jig.

Hold in your imagination my boneless hand.

Blue gray,
From a promising love scene,
Blurred by rain and stirred up mud,
Covering the emotional pain.

A Final Act
Yet undone.

I need to feel
The warmth
Of oranges
Yellows and
Reds,
Of just one of these,
To distract my heart
From visions of
Row upon row
Of cold
Judging
Corpses.

They stand there facing me.
Blankly staring
With gritted teeth
Not allowing me to pass.

All because of a single fact.

A Final Act of love,
Yet undone.