The breathing is composite
Of the infinite years that we've sung through
Of the infinite possibilities that could be to life
But its me and you again,
Us in the corners of the world
Or maybe the core of it all
Where white stars refuse to diminish
And bend down a powerful light
A time lapse so strong
You have your string held tight
And mine on the other side might
Not be as pulled *******
Let's not be
a broken mirror
in a scraped out
wooden frame
tilting behind
an abandoned, old barn,
with a messy hay stack
open, the meta strings untied
rained upon
walked upon
more often than it was
originally supposed to be.
Lets not be
a predefined song
blasting through the ears
at 3:49 am on a digital clock
in a dingy, cold studio apartment
which hardly makes sense
to what one feels, at that moment
but blasting in the ears, anyway
because the silence
is too deep for your existence, to bear
too fragile, to make this heart
pound flesh out and about
beat the veins, upturned
memories spit out
some venom, some close to perfection
in a moment brief,
unexpectedly
Although knowing
it had to happen a long time ago.
Lets be
a coral in the deep
shimmering, look at the odds
through scattered, refracted, reflected,
light, only to fill up its dream
not being the blind box of colors
only hoped in its heart.
Lets be
a lost star
in a far away galaxy
appearing to some
like a planet
escalating like a meteor
not being defined, yet existing.
Lets be
an endless well
quenching thirsts, unknown
bursting possibilities
feeling a little too much
than what was defined
or hoped.