The Disconnection of Purple
Some days I wonder if I'm the only one
Who can feel this dark purple
The color of new bruises,
Of the night sky.
Sometimes I'm so disconnected
Both above and below it all.
Is the soul a thick syrup
Or as brittle as glass?
So many more are half empty
(oh so shallow)
than all the way full.
Someone said that bad experiences
Make you grow deep,
I must be as deep as the ocean.
But, unlike the ocean, I am often
Still. Unmoved, yielding to no one
And no thing.
I just gently flow,
So very far from shores.
In the purple light I am disconnected,
Lost and free.
-srw
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