There's a tightness
in my throat
when I look to you.

I wanted to keep you special,
tied  you up in that tiny space,
all your memories kept like treasure,
but you became mundane,
engraved with gold in my days and life,
a part of the morning sky.

You painted my days in a lilac shade,
throwing red and blue my way
so that I could feel close to you
and find distance all the same.

There are storm clouds in this purple sky
ready to fall heavy with rain
as it drips from my eyes
that feel this indifference in disguise,
tries to hide this part of me
that cries from the inside
to be seen and be freed from these lies.

There's no peace in this demise
'cause the clock is ticking with time
moving quickly to divide
what is ours into what is mine.

You're a purple lover
always been on my mind
and still only a stranger
that I felt was too kind
but your presence is like wine,
gets me drunk, makes it sublime.

A writer's hands
are soiled in ink
and I know it
'cause I've written your name
over and over
and the black covers my skin
while I write of all your love
and all your pain and heartache

Crimson clouds cloud my vision
I see red all over
My reflection's blurry in the mirror
and its eyes look for cover
They're ashamed of what they see
as I dream of redemption
of wrongs rectified and apologies made
of certainty in my being
but spiders keep on crawling
in the shadows they build webs
of guilt and of me, missing you
while the sun is out
and the flowers sing with their colours
It is bright
so bright it hurts my dark eyes
they're not used to this light
of your hand touching petals
in a  different kind of summer