My Perfect Type of You, Bipolar
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Can I love and will I ever feel want,
Smooth skin, soft with a perfect line.
I stand in the castle upon a sheer hill,
The castle of my own confine.
It’s a chilling reflection on water at night,
From our living, breathing full moon.
You’re my eye of the storm sitting in the middle,
Of a raging swirling typhoon.
I cascade and I spiral out of control,
Inside I’m every beautiful crazy rainbow.
Floating alone not steering deep down,
Free falling through my silent grotto.
When I drown you’re my air in a bubble you live,
Floating through space in the open and blue.
My quarter past ten in the greenest of forests,
You're my timber, my perfect type of you.
Copyright © Lewis Raynes | Year Posted 2016
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