Her favorite color was Purple.
I know this, because I studied the corners of her eyes.
With bright colored bags
and calm painted skin
it was the most beautiful
thing about her.

In fact her name was
Purple.
Excluding the flawless of me,
reaching toward the stars
showing shine
without jealousy!
We even laughed together
as I so eloquently shoved
the idea of her presence
in the grocery store
aside.
I look back toward her eyes
they are broken and proud.
In motion,
I envied such passion
such simplicity without regret
I scold my illusion...

Seeing life without dark
and holding hands with her tragedy
I look
once more
into
human
eyes
and realize,

that I
now am the ugly one.