Required: a delicate touch

My warpaints are hurried

condolences for my loss.

The clean bill of health

buzzed like a fly into

a web of diagnosis and meds.

They never tell you how

friends and family robe

you in soft words and

muted hues lest excitement

exasperate your condition.

Bipolar suggests contrast

and in my smiling eyes

you might sense a struggle.

My heart beats blue and yellow

like suns or bruises

we never really know -

be careful when handling.