I could go on and on and on
But then I would stop.
Because I believe no one
Has the words,
Especially not I,
Not after the short time
I’ve been alive.
But what if I die?
I definitely wouldnt have
The words then.
Not a turn in my grave,
Not a thought in my brain.
I will have spent my
Living breath
Describing what I think
Death is like.
But by the time I am dead
I won’t know if I’m right.
I know what you’re thinking;
“She needs to unwind
No feelings lost
Yet no thoughts defined”
You’re right.
Please, don’t try and fix me
There’s a minute solution,
Bare with me,
Don’t bury me
with these beautiful complications,
Black flowers with white leaves
And red veins
Who says the sun
Can’t be neon-green?
The ocean will stay navy blue
And we will learn to appreciate
Ourselves, each other
Painting one another
Do you love it when I talk color?
The concrete walls
won't bind us
won’t speak to us
We have the will to kiss
But we don't.
Watch the glint in my eye
Become a glimmer.
In its reflection,
Watch yourself become an apple.
No, concrete walls
don't bind us to our fellow
**** sapiens sapiens,
and skyscrapers
don't portray the flora
and the fauna
of our generation,
yours and mine.
So if this comes down to nothing,
that's fine.
But take my hand.
Grab a paint brush,
carry this poem
with you or without you.
I no longer care about you
but for one last dance
I will cooperate.
I will find the words
for you.
I call myself nonchalant
yet I want more of you.
