Violet

It's come to this, release me.

And then your arms open and I don't want them to. It's come to this - I always say the opposite of what I really want with you. It's where I learned to communicate. It started with no when I meant no, but no one ever listened when I spoke that way. If I wanted your ear, I had to lie to you. I had to acquiesce to get you to stay, always. And then that became a cloud around me - a perfume that defined and followed me for decades: I say yes when I mean no because I know that's what you want from me. 

The problem is, that perfume cloud of acquiescence is so permeable. Well, let's forget the problem for a minute. I love this. My perfume cloud of acquiescence was made up of Jil Sander, Coco Chanel, Boss by Hugo Boss and what's that one by Calvin Klein that was so ubiquitous in the 90s? I can't believe I can't remember the name, but all this was me. Perfume cloud as armor and we all know how well that turned out. Perfume cloud girl - dark violet like a bruise on the inside. My heart went from vibrant red to violet in that time and it has never quite been the same. 

It's come to this, release me. 

The sleeves of your shirt must be linen or cotton - some kind of fine. I love the way they crinkle when I shift around inside them, when I say release me and you don't. I love everything about that moment. Those moments. Except that tiny pin poking another hole in my heart, bleeding my violet blood just a little bit more out onto your white dress shirt. My heart like a rowboat with tiny holes poked in the bottom - not a big deal, you think at first. It's only in retrospect you're able to see that this is how the boat sinks. This is the act that's going to call the sharks - this is the one that's going to end you.

Prompt song: What If You: Joshua Radin