My Purple Melody

Love, inspiration and passion

Her crystal heart pulses, living purple dancing inside it's immovable glass walls.

Passion. Strength. Passion. Strength.

The steady thud of her wild heart is music to my ears. I cry out in joy as the darkness fills with her pure white light, illuminating the love I left there long ago.

Passion. Strength. Love. Liz.

As true a rhythm as her love is pure, it beats in her, as natural as the purple that spills from her core. There can be no lies here. Just feelings, tapped out through vibrating fingertips. Her love spelled in dots and dashes, in hums and sighs, in squeaks and silence. The spaces between the gaps is where she confesses, because Liz-chan never listens, and she doesn’t need to be heard. It just has to be felt, like the bass-line of a song.

Love, Liz. Love.

She is amethyst rhythms, speaking with silence, and she has my love.

*

She finds love in a hand-written page, a hollow note filled by the twist of a wrist and the caress of a cheek on her friend's wooden body. The violin sings for her sadness, her pain, her agony held in it's taut strings.

She is so strong, so certain, so driven, that no matter what she touches, it will be devoured by her. Even herself. Yet on she drives, deeper and darker, down to a place where few dare to explore. Deep inside the darkness is where she finds herself, and gives herself peace and acceptance. She loves who she is, needs to and wants to, because nobody could possibility understand how completely this music fulfils her. She is what she needs most, and she will be strong for herself. She will be herself, and no one else.

She is violet melodies, beating down boundaries, and she has my love.

*

Amethyst rhythms and violet melodies. The life and beauty of music thrums through them, uniting them in a way I can never truly understand. I tinker with their notes, their songs, but they are not mine to mould. I impress my self upon them, sprinkling blue over violet, pink under amethyst. Their rhythm excites, their melody ignites, but their words, their words are not mine. 

And yet, immersed in the wake of amethyst rhythms and led by violet melodies, my own voice is freed. The undulation of their harmonies explode the fire in my belly, sending it racing through my fingers to ignite other hearts and minds flickering in the darkness. This way and that the fire leaps, mindless of mercy as it scorches it's determined path. I follow helpless as their passion drives me, the vibration of the keys under my fingertips as beautiful as their amethyst rhythms and violet melodies combined.

My purple medley, crafted from love.

Reviews

[The Nude Writer]

This is amazing :) So beautiful and loving :)