I listen to whispering voices,
telling myself to breathe, just breathe.

I take pleasure that now
I am just a breeze
that blows by
as it goes it's own way

Not bothered by
dysfunctional memories.
Putting them away.
Locked in attic, ignored.

Irritated by nothing
because I've stuffed
glue into my ears.

Screams for help
shot like broken arrows
from your broken you.

I whisper in harmony
with the voices.

We are pretending together
that your need
is not greater
then mine.

I love you.
Or at least
I used to love you
before you found
your broken bow
to stop the wind.

Blowing by
on broken breezes
caressing myself
as the whispering voices
tell me to carry on.