Self-Portrait: Blue Period

Photograph from the collection at Pixabay

I guess I’ve heard too many sad-girl tunes
because I’ve always wanted to be a muse.
To make artists believe they could catch me
in a bell jar like a twinkling, blonde fairy.
To convince critics I’m made of porcelain
shattering beneath the weight of a man
(I never should have married).
To urge spectacled historians to chronicle how I died
posing as Ophelia while oil paints kept me ever alive.
Yes, I believe there is a dangerous power in these…