Purple is your voice,
Soft as running fingers through groves of lavender—
Gentle on my ears.
Pink is your favourite,
Ironic with your wardrobe being a black hole
As you've called your beautiful mind.
Though it shows,
Your soft giggles
And the heartwarming way you talk to yourself
As you write.
White is our curious relationship,
Occasional exchange of calls online
And open to more.
Like the canvas you paint on.
I'd like to be close.
As my mind is too,
A black hole.
I hope you find curiousity there
As I do find in yours—
Because darkness is an unusual thing
Which pushes people away,
Yet draws them in.
Black are the shadows which follow us,
Darkest in the day,
And hidden in the night.
Yet there lies solace
In the lavender fields.