Dried they fall rather quickly.
Stomped beneath the feet of passersby.
None of who knew that they were once a symbol for love.
Dried husks of affection.
Nothing more than aged vegetation scattered down dirty streets.
Even nesting birds ignore the rubbish.
But I swear, I was once adored.
My petals fragrant, jewel-toned and the texture of velvet on skin.
Not a memory anymore.
Now a nuisance the wind blew up into your face.
I’m on edge
A gust of wind could knock me over
Send me to my death.
I bet I’d soar.
the wind would catch in my hair
and I’d glide through the sky
sunshine on my back.
I’m so on edge
my teeth will crack under the strain of my smile.
I can run a mile on a whim.
I feel electric and beautiful today.
I want kisses and soft touches
I want. I want. I want.
I want one coherent thought.
I want my medicine to help me focus.
I could scream with all these thoughts
rushing through my mind at once.
I want to be normal.
I have an obsessive personality. I don’t know other people who are bipolar so… beats me if this is normal or not. Addiction runs in my family (drugs and alcohol) but with me, it can be anything. Snapchat for example. I downloaded it and I compulsively check it every few minutes to see if there are any updates. It interrupts my life. And it isn’t just that that. This can happen with anything or even anyone. Someone will become so important to me but I don’t even know them. I’m an attractive woman and in a committed relationship but I want the attention. Men, women, likes, comments. It can be exhausting to be honest. This weekend I’ll see if I can put my phone away for a bit.
Blurred and spiraling downward.
I’m falling into the sky.
Hanging onto a dream with a wish.
No actions or drive necessary.
Gravity pulling me skyward.
Have I always been afraid to fly?
A sprinkling of stars. A smattering of kisses. She was loved once. Properly. There were flowers and kisses. Love was wine and poured freely. She was constantly drunk on the notion. The well runs dry and she is parched. What is she now? A cactus. Retaining what little moisture she can until the great rain falls on her head again. Spiny and coarse she hides herself well. If only for the moment. With sharp spines on her tongue, how is she to chant and bring the rainfall?