The Fox and the Violet

“And the sky was all violet

I wanna give my violent more violence

 Hey, I’m the one with no soul”

—Hole, Violet  from the album, Live Through This (1994) 

Bonvin. Leon. Bouquet of Violets. 1863. France.

⁕⁕⁕

Though you have adorned me with these names, I am not scary, nor violent; the cavity of my heart and knees cannot bruise colourful hues of violet. Forlorn and struggled, I've seen beckoning shadows dance in the lush valleys of life. My figure has been sprawled across these fields that shake and rattle with your name -- the one that travels like a passing wind -- and my shadow cannot ruffle against the fabric of this mental straitjacket. 

Insides are splattered with painted colours of violet; I wish to be visibly seen, perceived or even gazed upon by rolling eyes. Asters, bluebells, chamomile: the wildflowers that can easily stray your perception with a withered finger that manipulates gravity towards them. 

So, why can't wandering eyes see the sacrificial nature of these purple, heart-shaped petals?

Rosettes are bordered and prized for its sweet nature and I try to resemble the captivating roots that stem in fussed soil but it's stubborn and ignorant. Even the farmers, that till the dirt underneath my planted feet, are tired of the passive nature of your negligence and disdain, for the life that generates and swarms around you. Violets are petrified in the vicious lack of companionship of the sun.

So, why has the sun become avoidant and dare to solely procure ever-lasting moonlight? 

I've invited a heedless fox to sleep in the flower-bed of humiliation and use the covers of virtuous moss to muffle the piercing sound of clowns laughing at me. Would a violet be permitted to pray upon stabbed & wounded stars, if it meant I'd be released into an open sea of love? For the fox doesn't pay any mind to the toll it takes on the violets that its spiked and matted fur rustles against. These leaves can cradle your body until they start to wilt.

And one day I will perish from you.

And there will be no remnant of me found.