Under the purple sky of love 

And intimacy, I find no fragility,

But only excuses and alibis;

There's sometimes you,

Trying hard to hide,

And there's sometimes I,

Trying hard to abide. 

 

Everytime my parents quarrel,

And toss up the word "divorce,"

I wish for it to never land;

I am constantly forced to believe 

That people are bound to leave,

And that behind the closing curtains

Of every finishing chapter,

There is immense pain 

In the final feign laughter. 

 

A white, bland dove, that I often find 

Sleeping on the still water,

Seems bedridden, facing upwards 

Towards the purple sky of love,

Staring at the thin light of originality 

That's perhaps not it's share,

I look at it's steady stare,

A pinch of fiery glare 

In those dying eyes -

A desire to touch and feel 

And love with immense care,

But none contemporarily 

Suitable to partake.

 

I look at the same sky

Just distance away with someone 

I could wholly resonate with,

The same eyes that I sometimes 

See in reflection, in glass, in water,

In everything that eventually scatter;

 

A tad effort that erects hope

Only to sooner or later elope,

Every promising statement 

Executed with a hidden sigh,

Immeasurable amount of pretense,

Favourable excuses and alibis,

And believable lies;

Every new, hopeful sunrise 

Has only told me that 

The end is nigh.

 

Under the purple sky of love,

There's sometimes you,

Trying hard to hide,

And there's sometimes I,

Never wanting to abide.