Bucket list
I don't remember the last time
I wrote something in my bucket list.
I heard stories about how people
Found themselves in the peaceful
mountains or the bustling cities
And I knew I was lost.
I read how The Alchemist changed
People's lives but the world looked
Different for me after reading
Sylvia Plath's The bell jar.
I was told that saving up for
The future will be worth it
But on a sad day, going on
A small trip with my savings
Made me feel alive again.
I saw people in love and wrote
It down blushing but the paper
Looked tired of being erased
Everytime someone leaves.
I wrote new ones just to strike
Them off while the old ones
Stood stiffly as contradictions.
My travel lists felt so lifeless
When compared to a beach
Visit with you.
The books that held me together
Were never there in any of my
Reading lists.
When I realised I could have
Lived all the time I spent planning
I suddenly craved for more time.
Love wrote itself into my life
so gracefully that it felt like a crime
To reduce it to something that
Could be striked off.
Making a list felt so confining
In a world where I could be free.
This is so good. And the line "love wrote itself into my life" - wish I'd come up with that one. Well done.
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Thank you so much for your kind words. It means a lot! ❤️
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