i don't want to feel anything, but i do.
i.
love is not a colour. in fact, love is every colour. love can be red, just barely burning. it could blue, so incredibly hot it's formed into crystal liquid instead red gas known as fire.
Like fireworks.
ii.
sleep doesn't come easy. it's always a question of, will i wake up? what will i dream? will i be falling, trying to catch my breath?
dying?
iii.
six and a quarter minutes go by, my heart is racing and i'm trying to run, saving my life for god knows what reason. if i stopped now, all would be lost.
life would be easier, but i'd have lost.
iv.
don't feed me shoeboxes. they've been just too hard to digest. i know that i can catch every fastball you throw at me, even if it peels the thin layers of skin off my palms but sometimes i'd like to to benched. you know? just to rest my tired legs and bandage my bruises. then we could play again.
v.
my heart is swollen. i've taken it upon myself to paint the cracks and ugly stains in watercolour. then your tears wash them off and you see what's really beneath me.
don't do this to me.
just don't.
-
one. two. three. four.
it's never been harder to reach the door.
five. six. seven. eight.
pressing on, i'm at the gate.
nine. ten.
i've made it out still dreaming.
Adding your comment:
and it's always superb. Can I borrow your brain?
