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The color of my eyes after I've cried.
Pink and puffy and embarrassed.
The color of my veins, when they stand out clear against my skin.
My skin, after I've rubbed it raw, so now it's sore and aching.
The color I see when I close my eyes, when I try to shut off the world.
The insides of my eyelids, now itchy from weeping.
Bland, boring, artificial, like the smiles I paint on every day.
White like the page of a storybook, one that I wish I could sink into forever.
That happy color.
The one I imagine when I'm making myself hate you, because you will never love me.
His favorite color, the other boy. The one that doesn't make me hurt.
Yes, I think purple will do just fine.