Her hair as fresh
as ocean breeze
excites
as it awakens me

her piercing,
vivid,
sparkling eyes
soon have me stuck
I’m hypnotized

with supple, sweet
vanilla scent
and easy smile
she draws me in

and just like that
in seconds flat
the world just slips away

and all my worries
all my hurries
vanish in a haze

and ever since
that fateful day
we met,
she makes me feel
this way
a kind of love
I’m speaking of
‘s the kind that doesn’t fade

calloused digits
grip
the base
but you don't
quite
asphyxiate

your petals fragrant, drip with dew
I can't wait to devour you

Falling in love with someone who is bipolar will never be easy.
There will be minutes, hours, days, weeks, or even months where I'm unexplainably mean, or recklessly happy.  
For a period of time, I may be all over you and want to smother you in my aforementioned reckless happiness, that I will forget to ask how you're doing and if you ate anything today. I will forget that unlike me, you need to sleep for 9 hours a day and that you're not fully ready to take on the world.
At some point, I will take a turn for the worst and will mope in unbelievable sorrow due to the death of my false happiness.
I will cry about everything and will stop calling, and forget to remind you that I love you so much and just need some time away.
My deep sadness will soon turn into unrelenting anger and I will tell you abusive things that I don't really mean.
I will be confused as to why I say them, and apologize a million times and try to explain that I can't control my anger, and that I need to leave and be away from people for a while, although I know nothing will really help.
You will insist that it's okay and tell me you love me.
For days, weeks, or months, I will do this, and you will soon think I am lying and think that I am just genuinely terrible.
My constant apologies will become nothing and you will soon distance yourself and start falling out of love, but still have a glimmer of hope.
After this episode, I will have a period where I feel nothing and am almost robot-like. You will feel unwanted and unloved and look at me with such sad eyes and get nothing but a shrug and a half-assed "sorry."
When you finally walk away,  I will have more bad days than good days because I will regret not saying I love you more.
I will hate myself for being bipolar. I will fall back into my bad habits and soon you will be a distant memory.

A comment and a couple likes
is something, but it won’t suffice
there’s fruit down here, it’s free to take
but it’s too ripe to suit my tastes

this ain’t the place that I wanna be
at the bottom of this poet tree
as they all ripen, heavy fruits
come down and knock me for a loop

but still I sit, knots on my skull
can’t find a branch to get a hold
the bark’s too smooth to get a grip
so every time I try, I slip

a couple scrapes, some minor cuts
they sting, but I don’t give a ****
because the place I wanna be
is further up this poet tree