By Laily Berjis, TIWP Student

Purple is the ache of
being understood
only by yourself,

when the world looks at you
and sees nothing but light,

but inside,
you’re lost in a shadow.
Purple is the pulse in your chest

when something beautiful ends,

and you know you can’t go back
to the way it was.
It’s the ghost of a feeling.
Purple is the smell of rain
before it falls,
Heavy in the air, 
But not yet released.
It’s the color of the bruise
that heals into a scar,

and the scar that turns to strength.