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Violet Boy

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I only see you when the lights are violet,
when the blue neon sign is stained with your name,
like the blue permanent marker
I wrote about you in.
Two days of two years,
not a single hello,
yet I know you.
Maybe one day this identity will take over,
and you’ll only be the person
I saw in the photos.
Until then, you are you
and I am me.
But I can’t help but think
that one day the empty city won’t call your name to me.
One day I won’t see you in the saturated lights.
One day this will not be about you.
But maybe this was never about you in the first place.
Maybe these memories are for me to store
in the box I’ve intentionally kept empty.
Maybe I’ll see the real you one day, violet boy.




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