i hate the color purple

the color of cabbage and plums and freshly washed grapes all the foods that we used to enjoy together on birthday cakes and mall trips and so many more adventures

i hate the color purple

the color of red and blue that has been muddled together the colors that i saw when i found out that something i never thought possible had actually come true how could you ever leave me?

i hate the color purple

the color of hopes and dreams that they say you can find in the galaxy. reach for the moon, if you miss, you’ll land among the stars. i miss you, now among the stars. and i have no way to reach you.

i hate the color purple

the color that i used to talk about decorating my room with, the colors that decorated the outdoor seating last march with the flowers and ribbons and balloons that all meant to celebrate your life. celebrate the life that was gone too soon.

i hate the color purple

i hate the color purple because it used to be a bright, happy, cheerful color. and now when i see the color of your ribbon, i see the color of the disease.

i hate the color purple

i think you left in a cloud of purple off to heaven with your favorite blue dress and a bright purple umbrella to keep the storms at bay.

i hate the color purple but i only hate the color purple because it reminds me that i still miss you

white fluffy clouds

it would have white fluffy clouds as soft and as silky as cotton candy strands that dance around my dreams and wrap me up into a soft, cozy blanket

i would have light blue window shades that cover me in darkness and keep out the graphite darkness from the storm clouds outside

the rain would do a little tap dance on my windows, the pitter-patters
a reminder that i am safe and warm and untouchable

there would be a light scratch atop my bed frame, a shelf that houses books and hot coffee that indicates the old, worn-out, stained pages of my favorite books

i would be safe and happy wrapped around in my favorite blanket and listening to my favorite music without a care in the world

i would not be sitting in a rock-hard seat, with my hair getting tangled in the desk and not surrounded by the symphony of coughs and sneezes sighs and confusions

i would not be taking this test whose mixture of sounds and sights is nowhere near as nice as the cozy little paradise i have built inside of my head