Her name was Violet and her scent was violet and she wore violets in her hair.
The air was violet tinted when she started to speak,
and the low voiced words may have not made sense,
but it was worth it to watch the movements of her face
and to catch the shadows falling from her violet shadowed eyes.
Her name was Violet and her scent was violet and she wore violet gems on her wrists.
And there was music in her bones,
you could see it in the way she moved,
and music in her head,
you could hear in the way she talked,
as if the words were surfacing from a deep pond.
And the violet shadows glowed under the streetlamps,
and following her was not a request,
and returning not assured ,
yet the time spun out so slow,
and a lifetime passed before the night did.
Her name was Violet and her scent was violet,
and she wore those violet marks like writing on her skin,
like a map,
like a secret,
like a letter from a pretend friend.
And when her eyes met yours you understood that there were always hidden parts in deep water,
and that sunrise doesn’t always kill the monsters,
some of them like the light and the colors,
and some of them smell like violet…