Kalopsia

Some days I think I suffer from kalopsia

Because everything is a painting waiting to be created

And people look at me like I’m ridiculous

And I can’t explain how the blush upon someone’s cheeks

as we run away in the moonlight of midnight

In a game of tag

Looks like the laugh of a sunrise in an early morning when we drive to school

Blasting music that’s so stunning it’s all we can do to belt it out

Or the way that we sit in the same class each day

Pens scribbling but emotions and fears and passions

exciting new brush strokes and truths only captured

Abstractly

They look at me like I’m insane when I try to explain it and I want to cry

Nobody romanizes life like someone who is constantly trying to escape

But I can’t seem to break the rose colored lens I look at the world with

Until I can no longer paint like I used to until it hurts too

much to bring what I see back to life

And everything’s dull once more

And I’m thrown back into a world that has never shown as brightly

As when I was asleep

.

Kalopsia (n.): the delusion of things being more beautiful than they are