my bed creaks with pain
but i insist on jumping higher
i crave the adrenaline you used
to fill me with
in silly things
like jumping on my bed
and getting drunk and spinning
until i can't tell up from down
or swinging on a swing so high
that i feel like i am literally flying
and i could touch the moon if i stretched my fingers
just a little farther
i stuck my tongue to frozen poles for the refreshing
feeling of danger
and excitement
i used to feel with you
i want to feel the joy
you used to fill me with
my serotonin levels are dangerously low
and i do not know how much longer
i can go
without you.
so i break my bed
trying to be happy again.
YOU ARE READING
poetry
Poetrypoetry is when an emotion has found its thought, and the thought has found words -robert frost. all poems are mine unless stated otherwise. just thought i'd give someone a taste of my mind. #4 in ode
