|My name is Sylke and I lose my grip on reality too often. I'm a dreamer.|
How to love a poet: Expect them to be flawed,How to love a poet: by DearPoetry
a field of wild flowered-
& an inability
Love them anyway.
Know that when they look at you
they are noticing the little things.
Sad poems need pretty titles.April was lungs weak of blue, andSad poems need pretty titles. by DearPoetry
scalpels held in heartless,
You told me you were no coward
that the seas and the oceans
whispered in your ears and told you
only the bravest of men
deserve to kiss their beds.
May passed too quickly.
No time for mourning
when I gained ten pounds
of pure muscle
holding up your stars.
People asked too many questions.
People told me I was strong.
One day in June
you woke up to a skeletal frame
that wasn’t yours and the biggest,
strongest ribcage I’d ever seen.
I had cornfields in my eyes;
You misplaced your anchor
and your mind.