Of all the things I know, my blood is the first that comes to mind. My blood is violet and doctors hate me. My veins are deceptively blue and my skin a sad shade of purple. I’ll tell you I was born this lilac hue, but I’d lie. It wasn’t until i met your crystal eyes, that my heart fused blue and red together.
The sky in my hometown is a soft purple at dawn; it looks misleadingly beautiful. As the sky slowly becomes brighter, the heat envelopes me, and the dry air scrapes my skin leaving angry red splotches behind; to think 18 years would have made me more tolerant of the sun’s assault. The skies here are fake, they look warm and inviting but there’s no room to fly; boxed-in pretty birds are all we can be.
My grandmother’s voice when she sings feels like I imagine heaven songs do. Its familiarity makes me adore it, but the neighbours next door think it is too pitchy. She sings of lost love and family, she sings of dreams forgotten. She sings about marriage and customs and the trees back home in kharagpur. Her voice is lilac; cocooning me in it’s nostalgia.
This house is violet. On the outside it’s painted a warm yellow, with brick red accents, but the inside is lonely, the space between the silences yearning for your presence again. This house doesn’t feel like a home, without you, or maybe it does and I need you to complete it. I need you here, to dance around, and be my twisted sister. The walls are painted colours I could name, but this home is shrouded in a violet daze, till it feels your presence again.
Of all the things I know, my emotions are what should end this miserable list. Not sad or happy, they’re just a lavender feeling I can’t describe. I exist in a vacuum where the only world I see is a shoddy movie; it plays on and on, and I feel nothing but pinpricks here and there. I have lost all emotions, and I don’t know what to make of it. Every day that passes, I fear I’ll lose what’s left of my mind, because I keep thinking of where I went wrong; with him, with her and with me. I’d like to know the answers, but only you could give those to me and right now, ashes in my mouth would taste better than listening to your lies.
in search of venus 