Bleu

After they died in the car crash,
she sold everything, leaving
money for her demented mother
who called her Veronique instead of
Marie, leaving everything behind
that she could.
The music followed her,
just as a newly deaf person
keeps hearing their own music
over and over, unwanted.
There is no escape.
She only cried when the music
was written, liberated from
the never ending nightmares
of headlights careening
off the road, splintering into
a million fragments.