Not purple prose,
but purple poetry leads you to me.
Nights of violet rapture swoon
to echos of my sapphic sisters-
their hymns sung like lullabies
on beaches of honey and diamonds.
At sundown, lilac waves crash
to reveal white bridal veils.
An amethyst heart shares the same
regal hue of bliss.
Living for pleasure is the closest
any will come to immortality.
And this rich shade-
the combination of blood and ocean-
finds such expression
in the irises you pick.
Our baths christened
by those dreamy petals,
as a sparrow begs us to breathe in
the mauve stars of twilight.