my hair is purple now

(darkest plum, they call it)

and my lips

(bright bordeaux by bourjois)

and my lace trimmed panties

and my soft silk bra

all purple

all his fault

his pretty fault

his violet beautyberries

leaning toward me

stroked by gleaming sun

quite long ago

a different season then

awoke the purple passion I'd forgot

and now, tonight, this wildly purple soup

dark potage, never tried before

and though i'm spooning, sipping, all alone

no lie

delicious! on my wet lips and vagrant tongue

no lie

best soup I've ever had

(some purple learning has occurred, it seems

let's hope, for soup is good)