purple and green

(they don’t mean anything)

purple and green ( they dont mean anything ) and two flowers ( not doing anything )

baby butterflies and purple little guys and little bowls and mother and child.

the child. the flower- baby in the corner.

this is the feeling of purple and green flowers, walls covered in wire butterflies, a handmade birthday card not long after I told her (the colours I am thinking about- maybe- the colours she is thinking about).

Years growing up they slept in the same bed, spare room, then my room.

(It’s not my secret anymore)

I always knew you could see my purple-and-green-sensitive-heart from a mile away. Because I like cars, I like flowers, I like to draw,

I like all the things except for the things I dont.

maybe they get it-

…

As the story goes, where purple and green has been colours I have always always avoided since being told in primary school that “that meannns you’re a LESBIAN”, even now I am visually challenged by seeing the two colours together, even just on an aesthetic preference. Thinking about those first

moments of realising liking girls was a possibility, and something I should feel wrong about, brings up complicated feelings- but with strings of memories connecting me to these colours, surfacing

every now and again as reminders, purple and green and me is something I am starting to like. From my grandma and her partners purple and green sheets bought by my mother for their visits, to their four wall covered wire butterfly living room, butterflies also seem to have made their way into the narrative.