You show me how to dream,
invite yourself inside my sheer subreality.
You write the plot with me.
Then tell me I am not allowed to draw on air,
to shape illusion.
Call me irrational.
You hastily leave. My world dissolves
as I awaken.
You show me how to breathe,
to feel the warmth of life run down my throat.
Before I take a shallow swallow on my own,
you burst my bubble,
and with the escaping air
you disappear.
I'm left to suffocate again.
You show me how to fly.
Allure me with the view from our purple sky.
..I don't look up now
for I know:
you'll never let me
step off the roof.
Comments on "Untitled"
I still think 'poke' is the wrong word.. it doesn't get the bubble point across.. maybe 'burst'? Or something along those lines..
Also, "sky"?
i like this poem. It's very relative. You should write more
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