“Purple”

It took two to make me tango, find me in the rainbow second to the last seat.

I once read that red was a sign of love and anger, mixed with the mood of blues to make ends meet.

Soon I’d peak once the hues of their fueds clashed through a fist & bruised me with a creative gift to capitalize off of like pressing shift.

Leaving me as the reminding scar that love can turn so brutally.

Truthfully, the way that it hurts dispersed my curses in cursive so beautifully.

Gorgeous even.

If I pour the soreness of the heart onto my sleeve that I’ve stitched, then what I’ve sewn is reaping and every string attached allows my pen to keep bleeding.

I’m in the sky after the earths tears dry writing out my arced story.

Find me while you’re rolling, I’m in the second to last seat soaring.