i cannot use bleach.
i know enough of false purity.

let me be your ceiling,
so that you might lie on your bed
and look up to me,
feeling the weight of the world
pressing on your chest,
and feel confident
that i won't let it fall in.

when you think of me,
i hope you think of opportunity.
doors closed, but we learned to fly
to new doors within the sky.
words will never be as beautiful
as the love that we shared.
but i still care.
i've always cared.

the world is gray.
the sun gave up and left us
in an eternal rainy day.

i climb into the car,
leave my seat belt unbuckled.
see,
i've learned that what makes you feel safe
rarely ever does.

one bad thing follows another,
despair fills the holes
left by poisoned bullets.
peppered with chemical shots,
sliced by contaminated blades.
bandages hide the wounds,
they don't heal the damage done.
happiness is the most lovely illusion,
and we are magicians all.

when do you let go of pain?
can you?
or does it burrow itself in your heart,
left in hibernation until a new season of heartache comes along?
will it sleepily emerge,
or come out roaring, hungry?