Low lit room
Your perfume
Seeps into my lungs
Seeps into my lungs.

Transfixed eyes
Alibis
Slow this scene down
Slow this scene down
There you go.

Breathing slow
No one knows
You're halfway out my door
Halfway out my door
Watch you go.

So tell the trees
So I can be
Remove the traces of you
Remove the traces of you.

Lower your guns
Because no one won
I'm not your possibility
I'm not your possibility
Anymore.

As look at you, you look far away.
My cracked lips only want to speak your name.
Let my tongue feel the same.

Burn me so I have the scar of you with me.
Drown me to fill my lungs forever.

I know these words will transpire,
but keep this sound wave in your head.

I tried writing you a letter the first of May but my heart shot my hand with a silver bullet.

I tried dancing in your dreams but the sunrise stole you away.

I poisoned your cup with my tears but in your smile they dissolved.

I tried walking into your presence but my head crippled this body.

I tried.
To stop.
Trying.

Now how do I nurse these wounds?

He wore black suspenders
and was as tall as a skyscraper.
A dark green shirt and quirky socks.
I saw nature in his posture.
His eyes stung me at a first glance.
I know I’m young but my soul is old. His hands are magic on that guitar. His voice pierced.
Glances were exchanged and before the night fell I twirled out the door.
A smile and wave is what he’ll have as a memory of me,
just a passing girl in his world of faces.

I dreamed last night.
And for the first time in a long while
it came back to me with the morning.
A man who appeared to be a doctor entered my home unannounced.
My parent's delighted faces sent rays of light into my mind.
I looked at my cracked hands dazed away.
An uncomfortable presence filled the room with an eerie smoke.
He continued with "We are going to make you beautiful."
I never asked for this.
I never knew about this.
beautiful.
The word lost it's true meaning.
"Pick out your new eye color."
"I'll close the ragged holes on your ears."
"Better hair."
"Smaller nose."
I awoke in fright.
Then I wondered,
Out of all the dreams, why did I remember this one?

I asked the flowers “Why do you live when you know you will die?”
Eager and willing they invited me with soft fragrance.
“We don’t pretend to live in the present.”
“We don’t deny our fates.”
I waited patiently as the question had not yet been answered.
Their petals spread in enjoyment because my ponderings gave them happiness. The irony in that thought.
“We live for the weeping parent who outlived their own.”
“We live for the tiny noses pressed into us.”
“We live for those who feel they can’t for another day.”
I asked the flowers “How do you keeping giving?”
Their humble voices in unison echo
“We were born to give and so are you.”