I have bottles on my shelves on my bookcase on my table beside my bed.
They are fragile.
They are my favorite memories.
Or the memories I would rather forget.
We don't open those.
My bottles are all different shapes and colors.
Blues and pinks and greys.
The each stand for something.
My bottles mean a lot to me.
I don't let anyone open them.
They are too precious.
I don't like to open them.
They scare me sometimes.
Sometimes I open ones that make me happy .
Sometimes I put my bad ones in them.
My bottles on my selves and bookcase and my table beside my bed are beautiful in their own way.
An ugly beautiful.
It makes me happy when I can put a new memory in a bottle so I can see them swirl around in a iridescent
Color that shines in the light.
YOU ARE READING
Poems For The Lonely
PoetryThese are some "poems" that are more free-style but I put a lot of effort into these small groups of words so that mabye it could help you know that someone else understands.
