Tensed for a blow that may never fall

my back to the night and waiting

eyes closed like there’s some way of sensing it

the strike of a matchstick fist and sudden fire

as the world becomes like how I thought it was

spreading with the bruises

purple like the skies over Morocco in my dreams

the ones that make sense until I wake up

and remember that I’ve never been there

Photo by Ernest Brillo on Unsplash

6 responses to “Purple”

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