I bet if I could reach up and touch the sky, it would feel like velvet.
I would grab it in great big fistfuls and lick my fingers clean because the aroma of blackberries would be too sweet to resist.
Every time my fingertips would run through it, trails of phosphorescent stars would fall in lines behind.
I would leave long stripes of twinkling glitter across the black, which planes and planets would fly between, blinking red and blue.
The silhouetted treetops would tickle my chin as I would trace a map from the Big Dipper to Polaris, from Taurus to Cassiopeia, to everywhere and back again.
Silence would fill my ears and clog the air where I’m sitting, and I would cry with dark smears of fruit across my cheeks and a soft sensation against my palms because this purple universe we live in has no boundaries.