My Perfect Type of You, Bipolar
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.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment