Purple

There’s a color we keep returning to.

Purple. 

Not the kind you point out,
not the kind you explain,
the kind you feel when the world finally exhales and goes quiet. 

It shows up in different ways. 

Sometimes it’s yours; 
a bruised, royal weight,
the kind of purple that pulls the tide inward and
demands you sit with the depth of your own heart. 

Sometimes it’s mine;
a steady, lavender dusk,
the kind of purple that lets the light linger without
demanding a name for the dark. 

But most of the time…
it isn’t either of ours.

It’s just there. 

Between us. 

That same purple stretching across the silence we’ve built,
across everything we almost are,
everything we keep finding again in the seams of the day. 

And in those moments…
there’s no difference left.

No edges to hold onto.
No borders to cross. 

Just one colour
moving quietly between us,
as if we were always
just two different shades of the same arrival.