In your Garden

There’s a chance that I am immortal,
And so at night I climb and decorate trees,
My pale limbs hanging dangerously
Over wind and cold water seas.

I have found other worlds in your garden,
While crawling through the tangled leaves,
My crown fell down a hole that led to
A land of compultion thieves.

I hold my knees to my face and whistle,
My pink hands shiver, tippy toes freeze,
I pick roots of ice growing, biding my time
Till the moon lets me hang from trees.

Over time frost grew between my blue hair,
And sharp cold raindrops tickled my feet,
I’m still waiting for you to remember me
In a garden playground wrapped in sleet.

I tell myself every waking,
sleepless moment you're not here
yet each time you are near
again  my nervousness won't disappear
Creating an unstoppable ache in my chest
my restless blood pump evacuates
Pressure breaks each and every vessel
In anticipation, as if through ever breathtaking mountain air.
Gasping for a drink of the right words to ease the silence that keeps me gazing into the fog of two hazel encompassed pupils that are the door to the soul of the person I wish I could be.
With, In essence it is the ideal sorce of happiness
Truely inspiring my sence of understanding
Morphed mostly unto gratitude
Given the recent release of the knot
Which has held so tightly upon My throat of compassion.
Fear, no compultion alone.
By Extraordinarily exceptional lust
Portrayed by the people who I cared for the most
Has given me unreputible reluctance to trust those of the opposite fitting
But then again maybe it takes
An even more extraordinary creature to release my reluctance of relationship
And free me to the empathy that is unconditional love
Not nearly as Extraordinarily
That is. She is. Right here next to me