Analysis of Ink

My heart is a purple eggplant
It sits deep and dark
Pulsating like a dream you can hold in your hand
Smooth, warm, and whispering
Look deep enough and you can see
My blood is streaked with ribbons of lime and patchouli
And the purest black ink
And if you look even deeper
When the sun hits me in just the right way . . .
I am completely transparent
And devoid of all that is tangible and able to be contained
For that moment
Even if you can't hold me
I can hold you
A heartbeat later I am whole and solid
My thoughts now opaque
Already the memory is only wisps of song
Kissing my ears and encircling my head