These are not the colors
I penned
on this frail little face,
not the ruby red lips
of the princess I once knew.
Whose displeasure is this,
I think?
See how the colors run
under moonlight,
see how they slide
dripping unrestrained
down a morose face,
pulling on weakened heart strings.
“Please baby”
I say,
“Don't cry.
Daddy loves you.”