Hopes,Dreams,Wishes, purpose ...?

When I grow old

I’m going to wear Blue
An electric blue
A synthesised unnatural blue
And let my hair grow naturally grey
Maybe cut it
Not too short
Perhaps a 50 yr old rihanna medley
And I will immerse myself in creams
Lotions
Face washes
Everything
Never Surgery
But still I will accept age
Whilst never allowing it to beat me
Attempting to unfold
The creases that threaten to slither up my skin

I’m going to have 4 kids
3 girls and 1 boy
The boy the oldest
Like me he will be a Leo
A lion
A fierce protector of his sisters
The spitting image of his father
Who will be a man of character and
Will love me harder than I’ve ever known

I’m going to live in a gorgeous house
With wall to wall floors
And floor to floor walls
And stained glass windows
With arches around the doors
With dream catchers dangling from the frames
And all of us swapping souls around the table

Or maybe I’m just going to wake up tomorrow
And will myself to smile through the pain
This constant pain that threatens
to overwhelm me
to cripple love
to shatter faith
This pain that like gangrene
Forces its way through myself,
Halted only by the cocktail of poisons
Which intoxicate my soul
Killing me slowly
Yet ‘buying me more time’
Minutes to dream ,
Hours upon hours
Suspended in this trance
Where I convince myself that i will age
That I will grow old

Maybe I’m going to wake up tomorrow
And speak quickly,
So that no one notices
That my breaths get weaker
and I’ll feign sleep often
So that i don’t have see the anguish in eyes
And ill even feign a joyful tear
So that no one notices my eyes are duller
And ill repeat myself,
Telling the same stories over and over
Because all that’s left to say is goodbye
And I’ll Laugh Harder
So no one notices the silence

So maybe I’m going to wake up tomorrow
Or maybe I’m not
But I’m going to wear blue
That electric blue
With my hair cut short
In that Rihanna style medley
My face styled to perfection
Because death is not an excuse for poor blending
And I’m going to have a white coffin
Irrespective of Cliché’s
And Lupe delivering the prayers
Then Waving me away
With Dream catchers under my pillows
Hope still on my lips
And faith in my heart
As the moon swallows me whole
And my questions are answered