I have an obsession
with the idea of sitting
up high on the rooftops above.
The higher I would be,
the lighter my heart
from the place I'd be perched like a dove.
I could watch every sunset
and draw maps of the stars
so long that I'd greet the sun too.
I could feel the wind running
through my hair and my bones
'til it chased away all of my blues.
I could stay up late sipping
my favorite warm treat
as I messaged the people I know
with encouraging words
'til the stars blended in
with the commonplace glow of my phone.
YOU ARE READING
Ghostwriter
PoetryLiving with mental illness can oftentimes trap one within the inner maze of their mind. In that place, dreams, fears, wishes, and regrets all compile together to create a new world far from the one we physically exist in. At times, it becomes easy t...
