Purple is afraid <br />it scuttles into corners <br />on all fours <br />it reeks <br />it shrieks <br />and smells of old unopened rooms <br /> <br />it is the flickering eyelid <br />of an aging actress <br />and the veins <br />mapped on leaves <br />of frail plants <br />in nursing homes who suck thin air <br /> <br />Purple is chiffon dusk <br />compline and pale prayers <br /> <br />it is reading aloud <br />the twenty-third psalm <br />the noise of ragged breaths <br />clawing the air <br />a scratching away of calm <br /> <br />Purple is the gas <br />that killed Plath <br />and the depth <br />of her despair <br /> <br />it is the click of the valves <br />that stuck and the blood that cooled <br /> <br />Purple is profane <br /> <br />it never gives back <br />it hoards <br />it preserves grief <br />and bottles tears <br /> <br />Purple is half the world <br />and the side of me in shadow<br /><br />Philippa Lane<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/colour-poem-purple/
