As I lay in velvet petals from crimson roses
a picture of your smile
glows in the dark
behind my closed black eyelids
as i remember
how your concentrated love
has made me feel.

you’ve wooed me, pursued me
and now you have me here
remembering the redness
you’ve brought to my gold skin
and how the warmth of your touch
throws magenta to my cheeks

but still, over time,
you turn me purple.

good times, bad times,
we knew both sides of the spectrum
fading out of ruby hues
into electric blues.
you could color all my tears
with the pigment of the skies,
tsunamis pouring out of my eyes

you love me? you say…
and still, you turn me purple.

you touch me gently
you push me roughly
how can the two shades exist?
and then my colors shift.
my love mixed with your hate:
what a palette it creates
and now the whole world knows,
behind Versace shades,
that someone loves me enough
to paint my face with streaks of violet.

now as I lay here in the softness
of this petaled bed,
dripping salt water on an opened letter
that reminds me how much
my apologetic man loves me…

you still
turn me

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