Your jeans an aching blue,
blue like the dreams that surround you.
Dreams of  mansions,
mansions inhabited by ghosts of your past.
A past that no longer became future,
but it was relived by those you love.
Those that claim they love you,
they suffocate you.
No air, no breath, no oxygen.
But soon enough you'll breathe,
all on your own.
All by yourself,
remember you were never alone.

-m.c.