that it haunts me to know i cannot move forth
and move the vase of flowers
to the closet from the window.
they're so perfect, the piercing green holds onto the water droplets as a struggle.
well i won't stop it, just infringe it
please, don't mock my hair, which is fried
from rainbow colors and burnt on the ends
for an escape.
haha -- i don't think so.
not another happy ending when i am
standing in the cold, smoking a cigarette,
from the cheapest brand i don't enjoy.
give me your over-sized sweater and flee,
i won't stop you.
i merely seek warmth and comfort
and snowy kisses on a mountain.
when we occupy your dreams,
they will transcend into reality
until we're actually there with the man-made
snow fluttering all around us
and we drink our cocoa
at separate, opposing table.
do not forget to pray for those
who do not seem fortunate enough
to experience such a dream-like reality.
who knew we were so lucky to hold our own...
but please do not untie my dress.
i quite like it hanging there from my assets from my mother.
so just allow it to adorn me for now.
the weekend is almost over anyways
and we'll be heading back to the real world
as long as there are no obstacles,
and no more forks in the road.
YOU ARE READING
mayhem.
Poetrya collection of poetry that delves into the longing and freedom that comes with growing up as an undiagnosed bipolar, and how it feels to come out on the other side.
