Look at their hearts
How they light up for you
For you are a flower
In these barren fields
Nourishment for tired souls
Your eyes are our rose colored glasses
You make this world beautiful
And you can't even speak
Anyone who gazes upon you
Wonders how anything could be so good
In this world full of so much ugliness
Yet here you are
So sweet and precious
A little Violet smiling up at the sun

~You make the rest of us Smile with You~

It was an atmosphere
It was an oxygen mixed with southern fog
Southpaw gloves tied in sailor knots
Waves of golden grains in ocean wind
The rolling hills behind property lines

It was the question you asked
not with words but in the way you breathed against the window glass
as I leaned against your Corolla
And we sang under the overpass

It was graffiti
It was graffiti
It was the cavernous concrete cats with purple hair and acid wash jean jackets
melting the light of their city's street lamps into the obsidian void of moistened pavement

It was the way the reverb spread the major seventh across the sky with burnt orange cascading into the violet of the minor ninth
which reminds me of crickets and summer nights (and violins and cellos and midwestern jazz bars)
and how bar chords are a guitarists way of flipping off a crowd-
surfing the web for an answer to why I'm still single-
handedly the handsomest man in my car currently.

It's the cloth in my empty passenger seat
soaking up the air of my A/C heat
and the scent of the soil spilt from the succulent I was given at a wedding last fall
and now I don't know if my trunk will ever smell clean at all

But I'll let this night be interstellar
I'll take a bath in the Big Dipper and write you a letter about Orion's Belt
or how I miss the stars sparkling in your eyes making contact with the E.T. in me.

Phone me home, darling.
I'm lost at sea.

-W.J. Thompson

Mommy left when I was young
But daddy never cared
And I don't know what's worse of the two evils
Because daddy let my skin bloom in violet stains
But mommy...well I guess mommy was mentally deranged
I learned from a young age
That I'm the only one I got
So if you thought
I needed you
I don't because I've fought
For my spot
With everything that I got
And you're not the only one who's lies I bought
But I've learned
Trust is earned
And I'll never give it away again
countless times I've been burned
I'm exhausted
From everything it's costed
I'm done
You've won

Maybe I stay awake so late because I like the quiet
Maybe I love dark colors because my whole soul is violet
Maybe I love warm food because my heart needs warmth and kindness
Maybe I'm searching for something because I usually find less

....I feel
You....in my presence
By
My side...
I
Can
Almost hear you,
Your thoughts.
I know
You
Are
There...like
You know
I am there...by your side...
Something
Brought
US
Together.
I feel
I have
Been here
Before.
I get
Such a Strong vibe
From you
Like, I guess,
You get from me.

Are
You
An angel?
Who
Sent YOU
To me?
Why,
Pick
ME?

Every night,

chosen stars abandon their authorized positions
dancing tantalizingly through a universe;

splashing blues and violets
a fancifully dramatic canvas;

and finally explode
to unknown masses of reds;

showering another vulnerable heart...

Red is the fire within
that burns my insides,
and the flames lick the wounds on my soul.
I feel the blood boiling under my skin.

Orange is the soft glow
that warms my walls,
luminating from the candle in my window.
I count the flickers that lull me to sleep.

Yellow reminds me of the flowers rising
from my father's garden back home-
rising higher, higher, so high.
Rising to meet the sun in spring.

Green...
The land I call home,
where my heart longs to be
and my ancestors wait for me.

Blue is the enchanting color
that engulfs the pupils staring my way.
Yours are the eyes lovely
that keep me anchored here longer.

Indigo was the sky I wrote this under.
Have you noticed my pattern yet?
Surely the title gave it away,
so you must know there is yet one more color.

To conclude, there is violet.
However my life is not over, neither is my rainbow.
I have many more memories to make,
people to meet and help me grow,
chances to take...
So until then, violet shall wait-
and I can't wait to write it.

Someday I will finish my rainbow.
Someday I will find my violet.