Violette Vaine Joi [exclusive] Official

(a short prose poem)

She wore the color of dusk on her sleeves, that violette which blooms where light forgets to go. But what is a flower if no one sees it open? What is a scent if the wind carries it only to empty fields? violette vaine joi

Vaine. Not empty, but unreturned. She pressed her lips to the window glass, leaving a ghost of breath, and waited for a knock that would not come. (a short prose poem) She wore the color