Blue

She was shaking on the floor with her head hung in her hands. I felt useless. The walls bent in towards her trembling back and the only thing I knew how to do was to crouch beside her and lace my arm around her. I could feel her bones quaking. When she lifted her head, her cheeks were rubbed with blue. Like her fingers were blue crayons. Blue lines of melted blue wax dripped down her face. And it was all over my shirt from where she clung to me, and on my palms, and some had dripped onto my jeans. She was mumbling now but I was staring at the blue. I wanted to help her, but I wanted to get rid of it. Because if it stains I will have to explain myself to the devil and I can see him now, sitting on a fiery throne with smoke blowing out as he laughs and says, “man what’s with the blue.” I don’t know, she was crying, I guess.