Day 1
it's raining in my room.
it drips from the ceiling
onto my bed
onto my floor

Day 2
it's beginning to flood, soon I'll have no air
the rain won't ever stop
it's like he never cared.
I must turn my desk into a raft,
just to survive.

Day 12
The water is everywhere
I'm close to the ceiling now
and soon I'll drown.
I'm hungry and cold
but the rain doesn't want to stop

Day 15
i know i won't make it through
the night
it's still raining
it's still pouring
there's a hole in my raft
and it's sinking
and i'm still thinking
about you.

I reach for your hand
in the dark
like I've done
a hundred times before.
you were always there
for as long as I could remember

It was cold out yesterday
so, so cold
and I reached for your hand in the dark
but it was no longer there
for the taking

The way her face crumples together,
and her eyes turn red,
as if her entire world is falling apart
makes me feel sorry for her.
I reach out to comfort her,
but my hand touches the mirror
and won't pass through.

It bursts out of me
from deep in my core.
Tendrils of smoke and life.
They fill the air with the scent of ash and lavender.

Tears of blood drip off of my face, splashing on the ground,
creating a pool in the room I stand in.

I hold out my hand, thin veins are drawn on my skin by
the energy around me.
A deep red.

My hair dances around me in static,
dead roses litter the floor.
I welcome you into my arms, to welcome the disease into your lungs.
But this one isn't like the others.
This one is different.

A sickness that gives you the strength to stand up,
the ability to be yourself.
I've already let it in, I've already opened myself up.

So I'll ask once more:
Are you infected?

Your thoughts are like paint dripping off a canvas
Decorating the floor with your ideas
The reds and blues
A thousand hues
But one color always seems to be missing.

The museum is filled to the brim with your art
A rainbow of pain and love
An ocean of wonder
Every color you could come up with.
All but one.

You paint the sky and the moon
The stars and the forests
You draw out the sunsets and silhouettes
You’ve painted a galaxy.
But you think it’s incomplete.

You are my favorite artist.
I could stare at the pieces you create forever
And hope that I could be the color you need.
That one day,
You could paint me pink.