hello, poetry.
the most bipolar part about me.

there are days when you burst into my room uninvited, 
i wonder if my rhymes are that rude, too.

hello, poetry.

there are moments when you lay an understanding hand on my shoulder,
i wonder if my words have ever been the comfort food for a melanchoy mind.

hello, poetry.

sometimes you go streaking across the traffic of my brain
and i laugh when i think that these stanzas are slaves to my nakedness as well

you 
hide under my bed
leave flowers on the doorstep
break my windows
steal all of my clothes
make it impossible to sleep
breathe on my neck
mend my mind, while
irritating the places that are already wounded

but i can't live without you.

hello, poetry.