being human is weird.
i am in my life
and you
are in yours.
i think my life
is a little like a treehouse.
i decorate with it with colors
and stories
and opinions,
but i can only see as far
as i can lean from my window.
i want to know though,
what your view looks like,
what posters you've hung,
what constellations
you look at
in the middle of the night.
so i throw my paper airplane,
flimsy, i'm sorry
but if some other lovely human
in a treehouse finds it
maybe they will find
that their treehouse is as beautiful
and important
and interesting
as mine.
YOU ARE READING
•from my treehouse to yours•
Poetryletters to you, because we can never have too many friends. these are my favorite and least favorite things about being alive, experiences with mental health and overcoming hard things, and beautiful stories and ideas to brighten your day. kindness...
