Grisaille Strokes

Blotches and Smudges
of murky brown
Old revenge and grudges
bogging her down
Her skirt's in gathers
as is her frown
Like an old Flower
she has wilt
Probably remorse
and justified guilt
Deep wounds engraved upon a stone
that was a person
flesh and bone
Peace and reasoning
all's gone
between love and reasoning
she's torn
Pristine white flowers she's adorned
over her grave they lay forlorn