I used to think of you as purple.
The color of trust, hope, friendship.
To me, you were
various
shades
of
lilac.
I felt as though I could reach into your heart, and I would see violet.
But those were just feelings, hm?
feelings aren't thoughts
though we can think them
feelings aren't factual
though they can be based in fact
in short, I guess feelings aren't much of anything really
Is that why you didn't care?
But I'm upset, another feeling, if you didn't know.
In you I could spill the darkest parts of me.
Parts that weren't my color, parts that were cracked and dry and crumbled
Parts I couldn't bear to look at
And in shaking hands, I would give them to you.
afraid.
always afraid.
Afraid of this.
You shared those pieces of me, used them against me
and
you
proved
to
me
you aren't purple.
I don't know what color you are...
So I wanna ask,
What color do you bleed?
YOU ARE READING
unwanted redemption
Poetry"Life is like a poem, never truly finished. But sometimes it's over before it even began, because sometimes a pen runs out of ink."-me
