Painted Black and Violet

We were kids then
when I saw you first
and we still are just that,
kids,
but we're older
and we've bloomed
into red chrysanthemums.
Your petals spiral
like looking into a vortex,
a Fibonacci sequence
that dances in my mind
and beneath my fingers.
There we were, just
kids,
but we sat together,
drawing the universe
and filling it in
with violet and black
and I felt you were content
with what it was
because neither of us
had seen it yet.
Will you, my red flower,
my black star-spangled sky,
my violet cotton candy cloud,
paint the universe with me?

Rovva

QC

YWP Alumni

More by Rovva

  • A Nine-Year Journey

    For nine years, I've been a part of YWP and for nine years, I've felt seen by this community. Even as I've grown up, I've watched new young writers come and share their thoughts, emotions, and stories.
  • Beaming writer

    In sixth grade, our class had a show-and-tell every week,
    and every week, a small handful of students were selected to participate in the next one.
    As I was selected, anxiety kicked in.
    I wasn't really proud of anything.
  • Love And Embalming

    They carried you away in a black hearse.
    Our black eyes,
    beaten and bruised by love,
    caressed your black coffin.
    They opened your casket and there you were,
    your eyes closed,
    relaxed and so cold,
    and yet you seemed so alive.