Impromptu Poetry 07/14

bubbles burst like fireworks,

Snap, crackle, pop,

Splashing down cheeks

Like rivers of joy

And leaving only the scent

Of happiness.

Yeah, that's what growing up is like,

That familiar softness of release

That can both catch and cure us;

More than a pillow but less than hotel beds.

See, living straddles that intimacy and vulnerability are the sheets we lay under,

Wrestle with and wash weekly. Sometimes, we forget to fold them,

But we own them and every crease,

We smell the essence of ourselves in the faded colors and relish in that truth.

Yeah, that's growth,

That's me,

That's you,

Getting more comfortable in us.

And, we watch those bubbles land on the edge of our dreams

Waiting for that moment to pop,

Like exhaling is too much and

Inhaling ain't enough,

Yeah,

Where breathing beyond the pretty is too much,

And we sit,

Silent,

Waiting for choice to choose,

The bubble to burst,

And we sneeze.

Dayum.

The universe is funny.