maybe euphoria is not always how they say it.
maybe it doesn't always look like
wide grins and laughs above their lungs.
maybe it doesn't always come
from getting high remarks in school,
or doing your hobbies,
or being with your friends,
or going out for an adventure,
or chasing sunrises and sunsets,
coffee dates, and night outs.
maybe after all,
it doesn't always embody
the pastel colors of dusk and dawn.
maybe to some, it comes from
the twisted extent of things.
to some, euphoria is sometimes
in the form of deep sighs made of smoke,
or dressed in heavy gulps of liquor.
some may find it
by making crimson lines on their wrists
and retracing them every now and then.
others are being conferred of it
by fuming cracks in pursuit
of mending their own deformities.
darling, some people are ready to die
just to have a taste of it
even for the shortest of time.
and maybe, euphoria is a cautionary sign
that someone is drowning and needs saving.
YOU ARE READING
Thoughts Bared in Gray Nuances
Poetry...and so, rather than flowers, throw the torn pages of this vestige to my tomb. and so, instead of elegies, recite all the pieces written here. and so, in lieu of crying, burn this whole thing and toss this tome's ashen catachresis to my grave. do...
