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Idealist
You float on the edge of an exotic fantasy,
somewhere between ecstasy and reality.
Embracing the twisted truth,
that isn’t really the truth at all.
You choke and gasp for a satisfying breath.
Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to put things in your mouth?
Bittersweet memories smell too much like chocolate,
and you hunger for the taste of forbidden treasures.
I sip a pina colada,
only because I want the pink umbrella on the side,
And pray that I get caught in the rain
so you can’t tell a tear from a raindrop.
The broken mirror on my end table
will bring me seven years of bad luck,
but I won’t remember;
I already forgot what the ribbon around my finger means.
