So I will sweat, metaphorical lung transplant waiting list
Can't breathe thinking with head between knees
You are ground- don't throw up in the kitchen sink
Don't let this sick be you even though people already
Look at your plumeria body and see a shell a broken
One but listen you are the ground you don't move you
You don't sway you wax poetic all over the bathroom floor
You are the ground you can fly maybe if
Your bones weren't like the wind and the small nights
Weren't so damn vast oceans surmounting crabs
Walking forwards tiny hands grasping angry bugs
Dancing with the force of eighty weeping willows
Let yourself be a candle don't throw up don't
Be that way don't stop being in love even though
It hurts like sunburns a soft sad ache don't stop
Just sweat your metaphors over your hyperventilating
Don't throw up because you're dying slowly a sad
Creeping death taking dignity and beauty maybe
You can get it back the chubby smile soft soft eyes
Of youth and love and no snakes in the bed
Maybe you can get back the sea glass belief
In witches in life in not wanting a cliffs end to fly maybe
YOU ARE READING
Lured By Life
Poetryso you cry and wonder if red lights really mean stop or if its time to cross the bright highways and be caressed by passing cars because maybe then maybe you'd be an explorer
