You write warnings to me that I hide in my cupboard behind the clothes

The first one
A hairclip that fell on the floor 
when you danced to some music that only you could hear
In a store that sold courage trapped in bottles
Which I wish I could buy (but couldn't afford to) 

An earring 
You said diamonds were overrated
Pieces of rock under too much pressure
Like our hearts, only more easily accessible 
So you wore gold in your ears
Saying it made you feel vintage

like an old bottle of wine or

a black and white polaroid of memories 

You wrote songs on tissues
And flew them away as paper planes
Never waiting for one to return 
Because you were too high up the sky for anyone to reach 

You smiled crooked 
And wore daisies in your hair 
Singing about death

as if it were an old friend you missed
but couldn't visit because you were too busy

living between pages of your diary 

I keep your warnings 
Hidden in my cupboard behind my clothes 
And maybe someday I'll heed to them
But today with wings like Icarus
I'll try to fly with you
Till we get too close to the sun