Poetry & Art

Spoke Too Soon

I hope when the sky turns violet that it reminds you of me.
That shades of purple hurt to see like a bruise right before it gets better.

I hope you wonder why there is an ache in your chest when amethyst reflects light.

Why plums, grapes, and boysenberries are fruits you can’t eat without closing your eyes.

I gave you my lavender heart and you slept with it every night.
Then you changed your mind after you begged me not to change mine.

by angela.alimurong

I write. I cook. Sometimes in that order. Sometimes at the same time.


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