Written by: Mrs. Paraskevas
Did you ever wonder if
your purple is my purple?
I’m not saying the difference between fuchsia, indigo, or violet.
I mean if your cobalt sky on a cloudless day,
Resembles my tawny shade of a silt-laden river.
Did you ever think maybe
your sour is my sweet?
Not like a hint or a preference in flavor.
If the saccharine strawberries that delight your tongue,
Insult my taste buds like the burn of a habanero.
How about if what’s soft for you
Is really rough to me?
If your cashmere-like pillow case that you lie upon
Is like an emery board scraping my cheek
Does it really matter?
So long as you have the sense.