Hold Me Tight
I've got a whole universe in my room.
There's the Milky Way, and there's the Sun, and the Big Dipper, too.
I'm the God of this universe.
I used the remainder of my monthly allowance to buy sticky Glo-in-the-Dark plastic stars, and spent 7 minutes decorating my ceiling.
I lay across my bed with the light off, and I breathed in my creation, realizing then that my room has its own universe.
With all of the many lives that filled my summer nights, caressing my endless search for fulfillment with their beautiful stories, wrapped in protective binding to keep all of the pages in order.
Some lives are filled with romance and clarity, showing me a life I could truly enjoy.
Some lives are sad and brutal, words sliding like tears to create a makeshift mirror in which my own glistening eyes stare back.
Some are remarkable and lonely, where pride takes over every other emotion and creates hard walls.
Others are just boring, left half read on my bedside table, bent open for so long that they can never be closed properly again.
But my universe is grand, with Heaven located on my bed, right in the eyes of my favourite stuffed bunny Mr. Whiskers, whereas Hell can be found in the dirty laundry hamper, mixed in with my dirty socks and wrinkled blue jeans.
My laughter creates its sunshine.
My tears produce its rain.
My music makes the rainbows; beautiful twists of colour that sprout from every cloud.
I feel my universe just as I feel my own pulse, fierce and eminent, and ever-so-soothing.
I've got an entire universe in my bedroom, made only for me, and it flows with my blood, grows as I do.
Every night I sleep under a bright, Glo-in-the-Dark sky, hug Heaven close to my heart, and ask myself why I feel so completely alone.
YOU ARE READING
Words, Words, Words
PoetryThe title pretty much covers the basics of what this is. It's words (x3). My words, specifically. There are poems, short stories, little random paragraphs, slam poems, a whole shitload of things. So read if you want to (or don't).
