I'd love to find a friend
that I could lie with in bed,
staring at the ceiling
while we both pretend
that the world is still alright.
Still broken, but not quite
as damaged as right now.
The fractures, out of sight.
And we'd chat about the things
that make us laugh and sing
all the while knowing
that it'll never be a fling
because our friendship won't turn toxic
and it'll never shift erotic.
And that's exactly what I'm after:
something pure platonic.
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...
