Hearts in Blue

Hearts in Blue

Just below the surface, New Orleans is wrapped in chains
of broken hearts and darkness. You can hear it in refrains
of music floating through the night. It’s rhythms permeate
and stain the souls of those who blindly wander out too late.

There is a certain sadness, in the evening's waning heat,
about the girls that sell their wares down on Bourbon Street.
Behind the masks of gaiety, I think the source is seen
of the melancholy feelings that make the blues supreme.

The buildings speak of days gone by, ornate in their demise,
like the ladies of the evening, you could see it in their eyes
as they stood above the crowded streets offering a smile
that told of pleasures promised - but only for a while.

"La Belle" she went by on the street, with hair of flaming red.
With a whiskey-throated sigh, she would call you to her bed.
It wasn't just for money, it staved off her loneliness.
You'd see it in her eyes as she teasingly undressed.

She'd fold you in her arms, and you could hear her need
in the lyric fragments, she would murmur, almost plead,
reciting Holiday and Smith, her eyes focused far away,
while softly in the background you'd hear King or Waters play.

Her alabaster skin was soft, her breasts were full and warm.
She'd hold you in her tenderness and keep you safe from harm.
Then passion would come over her and with pleasured cries,
she'd fulfill your fantasies as tears would fill her eyes.

With pleasure past, she'd take you in her arms once more.
and rock you gently as her mind returned to distant shores
where the keeper of her heart was lost in a mindless war.
She'd lay there humming memories until you closed the door.

Like a song that's in your head, a bittersweet refrain,
she'll live within your memory in an indigo domain.
Behind the masks of gaiety, I think the source is seen
of the melancholy memories that make the blues supreme.

A entry for the June round of "Invalid Item" 
Line Limit: 100
Line Count: 32