Love, Bipolar

I find myself wrapped in barbed wire desperation and horrified by your joy

I know it’s a fleeting smile,

a ticking time bomb that will land

with an explosion of your darkest parts splattered on the wall.

Shoot a camera

shoot heroin

shoot a ball

or a gun.

It’s all the same ending

ene that can’t be undone.

You attempt to shoo away the pains of the world

as I hold your hand and lie, saying,

it’ll all be alright.

I relish your multi-colored temper in my pale, tired hands

and count as time goes by, to understand

this won’t last forever,

One way or another, the countdown begins.

I use each finger and press it to your palm,

one, two, three, four,

And the invisible spikes that twist around your neck erode

five, six, seven, eight,

and reveal

nine, ten.

The you that lives mostly in my head.