Under a Lavender Sky

You thought I was so optimistic back then,

when my smiles came like I pulled them from a jar,

but you were the source of all that glee and wit.

I was pulling from your sun and your orbit 'round me;

I was your little shadow, the one who wanted to be you

even though I was just a thing in changeling skin.

You liked to take your walks by dusk, and I'd follow

because it was us against the world, again and again,

until the bubble burst and your sun set one last time.

Ever since, I've watched the sky take on different guises—

the red sky warning its sailors, the gray sky tempering its reach—

until the background noise settled to a lavender mist

that colored the clouds like magic dust colluding.

The sky feels like you, your immortal vibrancy I tried

in vain to recapture for myself, and I know it's only time

before the sky repurposes itself and blankets in another shade.

But until then I watch the ebb and flow of soft purple waves

that tell me I'm more like you than I ever thought—why?

Because the presence you left behind, vacant, is just the space

you made to fit me inside when I was ready to take control.

You were the queen, and I was your only waiting princess,

and now I hold the crown in my hands and stare down,

while you're watching from someplace else, perhaps

the lavender sky with all its poise and flow and vigor—

the glimmers of what I'd like to be, if only to remember you.