Dear Iris,
Some people are forest fires, and others are cigarette breaks.
guess who got burned.
It's a funny thing really, life.
I could say I loved you, and we'd be Romeo and Juliet. Except, the play made love look like a delusional fool that knocked on young hearts doors, and pulled them in with his white rope of lies.
I keep thinking this is a dream, and we'll all wake up in reality. And it'll be better because no one is in a haze anymore. the oblivion will have been gone.
Except, this is reality, and were all blinded by the ignorance that blooms over our eyes like algae in a lake.
sometimes I think about what we could've done had you still been here,
and then I remember.
you would've left for NYU and I still would've been here in the heat waves you left behind.
Everything is an illusion,
I need the shock therapy to feel alive again.
and there's only one way to do that...
I hope when those who sneak around find my letters,
they feel deprived, for my last thoughts were with you
please throw down your noose,
so I can climb up to see you again.
Hello Iris,
Greyson.
