Bipolar is not just
swinging madly across a spectrum
of deep blue to fiery orange without
being stained by the indigos and greens, yellows and reds in between.
Bipolar is not just
a season blessed and a season cursed
on a cycle of happen, rinse, repeat.
bipolar is not just
Loud uncontrollable chatter
laughter that bounces off the insides of your head
Or
earthshattering sobs that give way to
teardrops that are waterfalls.
bipolar is not just
wanting to rove our hands over the
planes and curves of
every body we happen to find ****.
bipolar is not just
an amalgamation of wounds
in various stages of healing
each with an ugly story to tell.
Bipolar is just
so
hard
to deal
with,
(sometimes).

Your eyes have such depth that even poseidon would drown

You were a thorned rose; placed onto a rotting grave,
who made even death;
seem beautiful with *grace.

You are the beautiful nightmare that haunts me awake;
into a place where my reality seems nothing but-
**bland and opaque.

In fact, it was about you. It always is; it always was, always will be.