Over the last few weeks,
I prayed to the blood orange sun,
That was setting beneath the pastel backdrop,
And tinted clouds.

I asked for the peace that I've been searching for,
Only to find gusts of wind,
And lack of warmth,
Be the response.

black moods bind me
raw nerve endings
which light exposes
with a flash of recognition
caught by your gaze
exposed like a photo
in a darkroom
pitch black deepens
in this echo chamber
pulsing with heart beats
a place where fear resides
waiting for light to return

My love,
I am totally dependent  on you,
Do not force me,
Do not hurry me,
Expect less from me,
I am sick,
Let me rest.
Be there for me,
Kiss my cheek,
Love me,
Hold my hand.
I am muddled and lost,
I need you to manage my everyday tasks,
Tell me how, simply and clearly,
Give me a sense of dignity,
Help me to focus.
I may become aggressive  dear,
Distract me,
Lessen noise around me.
If I insist on wearing same clothes,
Buy some more pairs of the same.
I need you my love, more than ever,
I need your love and care.
Please don't be angry,
I know you have a lot on your plate,
It is difficult for you,
Please put up with my terrible
moods,
With you around I feel safe,
I feel happy and comfortable,
Be there for me till I am gone.

my mood shifting like the wind
feels something like whiplash
pleading for it to end
knowing that when it does,
I might crash

I’ve never felt so chill
then thrown into a rage
while my body remains still
my heart beats harder,
behind my ribcage

I long to return
to my joyous smile
for happiness to burn
behind my eyes,
once in a while

I’m ready to go back to
the person I know I can be
I’m looking for a breakthrough
something that could finally
set me free

Every day is a different story,
But cycles tend to form.
Cycles, cycles, cycles, cycles, cycles.
Compulsive, depressive, manic, crazy.

It’s like a CD skip- skip- skip- skipping,
But it’s not like she can remember why she was mad in the first place.
Doesn’t recall the fight you yelled at her for,
Can’t seem to forget her love for you though.

Roller coasters are her favorite.
Did you hear me? IRONY AT ITS FINEST.
Up and down and around and around,
Riding and being thrown by the waves over and over.

Thank you for putting up with her swinging,
Back and forth, like two-face.
She can’t control it, she didn’t want to be this way,
But God said she was strong enough...isn’t she?

At least she has good music tastes,
Riding around, the stations changing with her beautiful moods.
Smoke blowing out the windows,
She’s the one the music talks about: Here and Gone without a trace.

Do you think she ever gets tired?
Tired trying to keep up with her day to day phases?
Pha- Pha- Phases like the moon.
Beauty ever changing, but silent. Stuck in her head.

You love her though right?
I mean, think about it.
When it’s a good day, she’s so understanding and chill and all-around perfect.
Those days make every other worth it.

Right?

God bless the cycles, cycles, cy- cy- cycles.
For one whole day she’s uncontrollable.
Asking you a million questions and wanting to hug you for as long and as tight as she can.
Kisses, “I love yous,” excitement, annoyance.

“Can we get a pet octopus?
Oh pretty pretty please?
Can I cut my hair or dye it bright pink?”
“You hate pink” you say, but there she goes again.

Down down down the rabbit hole.
Off again she goes.
Hair flying in the breeze, that perfume you bought her still on your shirt.
Irri- irri- irritate- irritation.

The day very next, not even 24 hours yet,
Tears falling down her face, rivers of black eyeliner.
She doesn’t get out of bed.
“Baby what’s wrong?”

Nothing is ever truly wrong.
It’s like a weight on her chest, suppressing her every move.
A deep, black hole in the pit of her stomach, isn’t that what she said?
Misery at its finest. Almost like she’s already dead.

Why put up with her then?
Why ride this roller coaster?
Why hold her tight when she laughs?
Why hold her tight when she cries?

You see, why would anyone in the first place?

In fact, there’s no perks to dating a bipolar girl.
Not one.
Not at all.