Ivy

Writing

Life is poison colored in shades of ivy. I’m not speaking of yours but of mine. That is simply how things tend to be for me. Vines creeping up my skin with the seductive aroma of poison, it’s seductive and tempting. I don’t really understand nor do I want to comprehend the way of man. I’d rather contemplate my own ways of living life and trying to live better. I’ve done the mathematics on the repetition of the “I’m fine’s” and the “I’m okay’s” each one their own separate lie that themselves have implanted themselves within the grass around me. The ivy’s green ridden leaves eagerly run across my skin leaving me with the insatiable feeling to rid myself of it, as my skin slowly begins to burn I ponder what other worlds that I can explore. What other hearts I can find and lie in wait within, not to achieve anything from anyone else but to simply find out what worlds are there to explore besides the dark confined corners of my own heart. The ivy slowly twists up my body leaving a trail of irritated flesh. The lies that I have told to the ones who care for me seem to have bounced back at me in the form of this ivy. I’m hopeful that I will soon be able to explore these different worlds and learn of their mysteries.

Yet the only world I want to truly explore is yours, your words, your smile, are a world of their own and I want to lie in wait for something to happen with you and you alone, I want to speak the words “I’m fine” and finally truly mean them. Who wants to hear the delirious ranting of a man? Maybe you do, maybe that’s why I love you so. You repel the ivy from me, yet you fail to realize it.

Life is poison, and you, you are my sweetest antidote.

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