There’s purple everywhere
Purple fingers, where they went numb, purple splashed across my skin, and I can’t tell where the paint stops and the bruises begin anymore
The bristles of the brush were frazzled and bent out of shape where I had mashed them to the paper, like my hair-- tangled from the times I ran my hands through it.
I’m convinced my blood is lilac, and I’ve just bled out onto the page.
Violet, Amethyst, Wine
Staining my fingertips
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