Purple Nights

Painted purple skies,
like smooshed berries, are
the night stained in their juice,
fading in color and sweetness.
But the sweetest of them all, that’s blue.
That’s up above me, and you
holding our stars and the birds.
Although it’s a disappearing sight
and a drag of our necks upward
toward vanishing brightness,
that’s where you find the purest fruit.
Shooting through to dark
and falling down with the sun.
Always mixed in color and taste;
often less sweet with only traces.
But those traces carry through
and bleeds into the next dying day.
And it’s no matter the taste or temperature
we are always caught drinking it down,
glimmering specs slip through;
it’s worth the dying:
a taste I’ve acquired from you.

PG

Leave a Comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.