The Astronomers Last Words (An abundance of poems)

Bleeding Blue Lilacs

I dream of a fairytale aesthetic.
Of flickering fairy-lights
Of perfect tan lines
Of bleeding blue lilacs
Of picture perfect Polaroids
Of an easy story.
I dream consciously in color and skies and time.
I dream at night of black and white of cries and I'm out of time.
You can't control your brain.
Well unless you can then consider yourself tamed.
I am a lion in the wild with a matted down mane.
The least intimidating this creature could've came.

I dream of a fairytale aesthetic
Of a happy ever after
Of a life full of laughter
Of a pumpkin as a car
And a blue ball gown to match my bleeding blue lilacs.
I dream of a life that I am free to live.
When I am conscious.

When I sleep at night I dream of distant dull fairy lights.
Of bleeding black weeds.
Of a skin so white you can't see the line between paper and thigh.
Of a Polaroid of my grey canvas floor.
The only Polaroid I'll ever take.
We dream things that don't decide what we dream.
We express what we want for life In our dreams
Or not dreams.
We don't get to decide if we bleed blue lilacs or black weeds.
But when we wake up
We dream consciously
And maybe that's a blessing, we take for granted daily.

I get to dream
Of a fairytale aesthetic.
Of bright blue eyes
And lilacs to match.
Of shining blonde hair
And love to last.
Of midnight mumbles
And Polaroids that were taken too fast.
Of a life where her and I get to laugh.
And decide how we dream.
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My throat burns from sour candy how are ya.