Neverland

[21xysafx21]

Just looking for some genuine ways to make this a decent poem. Its my first one since school and is very emotionally meaningful to me. I want to make it 'actually good' as it has been very therapeutic for me to work on:

We met hidden under covers, 

sheltered in the dark

 and crawled towards each other

to escape our treasured mothers.

Hopeless haunting spoilers

of our futures, already misjudged.

Our mother’s cries vibrating

from every surface that they touch.

In pain, the shadows of her past

surround the virtuous.

Too much to bear for infant minds,

the madness of her love.

 

We built a beautiful bubble

that only we could see.

We built a world—a universe

where only we could be.

Every night, sneaking down the halls,

we come for one another.

Only us two left awake,

the perfect time for our escape.

‘Come on, let’s go!’, no longer alone

 and finally off, the covers thrown.

Down the rabbit hole we go,

hand-in-hand into the night.

Skipping past the thorny hedgerows,

quickly out of sight.

 

We run through fields of candy canes:

red and white and green.

We rush through twinkling fireflies,

and swim through lakes of cream.

Tumbling, rolling strawberry hills

that seem to never end.

We climb up trees that have no tops,

and float down rainbows when we drop.

 

We promise things by starlight

and as we slide down snowy flights,

we yell out ‘you and me against the world!’ with all our little might.

Grey mist clouds dance with glee

across horizons we can’t see.

I clasp your hand and pull you on,

whistling a childish song.

 

How time outside the bubble goes,

in Neverland, we cannot know.

But one day, tranquil by a lake of rainbow fish, we sit and wait.

I look over, and in your gleaming eyes, the stormy shadows slowly rise.

‘Don’t look!’ I gasp, but you don’t move— and that’s the moment when I knew.

 

I run back through our firefly forest,

over our strawberry hills and on,

and all the way through Neverland,

back to the place where it all began.

The entrance to our bubble world,

a doorway made of twirls and swirls.

Your bedroom, on the other side,

I leave the doorway open wide.

 

I pull the covers off your bed

and see three pillows lying, dead.

I stand in awe, a trick, a stooge,

and every ounce of trust disproved.

How long have you been gone, my friend?

In who else’s world do you pretend?

 

Collapsed and heaving,

shaking and seething.

Convulsed upon your bedroom floor,

I never even heard you leaving.

My stomach churns and eyes burn,

frozen, dreading what I’m hearing.

Heavy footsteps growing nearer,

you climb out of the rabbit hole, and then sincerely

 

you say, ‘What’s wrong?’ with no expression.

The voice that always sounds like heaven.

I place my hand upon your chest,

the lack of warmth I do detest.

I lift your shirt up as I must,

to see that to my own disgust:

screws and bolts and webs and dust

replace your heart, and break my trust.