We had made a home out of our love
Big windows and sturdy floors
I looked around and then I found
We had forgotten to put in a door
So we tore down the wooden beams
Holding up the roof we were trapped beneath
Broken glass, the house collapsed
Lying in the rubble, I could finally breathe

tap, tap, tap
my toe hits the linoleum
I'm caught up in bouncing knees
and quivering hands
involuntary vibration
punctuated by staccatos
slicing through the silence
"It's coming," it says
I mutter, "how soon?"

You once called me delicate
as if I were but the eggshells you walk on
You said you were afraid to touch me
That you could crush my frosted flower petals
with your clumsy hands
Butterfly wings between your fingers
But you overlook my strength
The way eggshells contain a pulsing soul
The way an insect can carry ten times its weight on its back
The fact that glass is made of lightning
You overlook your own gentleness
The soft words you sigh from softer lips
The way that fire keeps me warm
How many teardrops make up a storm?
Please believe me when I say
we are not made of sticks and stones
Please believe me when I say
I am something you can hold

I collect memories of you
and wear them like a charm bracelet
They delicately dangle and glint in the sun
like tiny wind chimes
You are cast in silver
cold to the touch, yet warm on my wrist
Chain-link ringlets coil closer than your hair
loose clasp, smooth hands
Flawless fractals falling one by one

Between the angry sea and I
There stands a sturdy barricade
A wall of sticks and bones and teeth
Another fortress that I've made

It starts to sway and bend and crack
As waves beat it relentlessly
I rush up with handfuls of mud
Trying to fight away the sea

Eventually the sky turns clear
I take in the flotsam scene
The ocean outside still churns
Just the sea and I, with a wall between

I'm wearing my favorite boots today
They fit perfectly,
Since Ive finally broken them in
It took a while to wear my footprint into their soles
But now my body has beaten the leather
Until it curls around me.
They are comfortable, practical
The tongue used to stick out and squeak with ever step
But don't worry, I silenced it.
I've laced my boots up tight
Don't want to be too big now
Don't want to be loose
I can't let you slip away from me again.
I top the knot off with a little bow
Still got to be pretty
What are you if you're not pretty?
They have scuffs and scratches and cuts and bruises
But that's just because of all the fun I've had
Sometimes I clean them up a bit
A little spit and polish, and they're good as new
A little spit and polish, and everything's okay again
But they're getting worn down, I can see it in your eyes- I can see it in their eyelets
But I know they can't walk away
After all, who else could they fit so perfectly?

Purple is often misunderstood 

People confuse it with pink or blue 

They cannot comprehend change

The synthesis of something new

Purple has been picked to pieces

Analyzed with Pantone paint chip cards

The public is vexed, this defiance of ***

Twirled around by color guards

They say that violet delights have violent ends
That from this “choice,” there’s no return

But they’re the ones who set us aflame

And we, in their triumph, burn