Raindrops are Falling on My Bed

It stays unmade
And it stays the same despite her suspicions
What she notices as a change is really
an overlooked feature.

It is a safe place
Possibly the only one
But it is decorated in gaudy anxiety
and panic, heavy brows of worry
and poisoned sclera, now black.

She has light with no caps in the corner
No delays and far reaching
It seems to be on when it is not
but that is never a bother
The shine is obsequious in nature
and will dim when she does not
Want illumination for her thunderstorm.

and it tilts.

When she touches it, it is unstable
and an average would mistake that for brokenness
Or weakness
but scars do not make a body weak
Scars mean it works despite attack.

Because democracy despite despondency
is the best kind of revenge.

Figments of Imagination

It's tragic

To wonder what he sees when he is laughing

What he hears

How it makes him feel.

To wonder what he dreams

To wonder if he dreams in color

To be unsure of what he can do

To be scared for him

When no one is around

To be nervous when he is not around

To wonder if he has friends

To wonders what his friends mean to him

To wonder if he knows what I mean when I say

"I love you"

To wonder if he knows what he means when he says

"I love you"

To wonder what he sees when he is laughing

To wonder if he will ever be able to tell me.

Sometimes I feel just as trapped

As I think he is

Because I cannot free him from the world he lives in alone

And sometimes I feel guilty for assuming he feels less than.