Ivory, sheer curtains
Breathe- sunlit with passing wind.
Delicately brushing eggshell plaster
Before falling to original shape.

I wrap myself in their peace.
Matching breath to theirs,
And it feels like
I am being held by your
Love.

Is a dream I can’t have.

Why is it
that I only sit quietly
in the morning?

Am I allowed just
one breath
of wholeness
before the barrage
of the day?

What would happen
if I claimed
all my other breaths
in the name of peace -
of saving a life?

What would the world
do with me?

I have these masses of hollow spaces inside of my chest,
and I don't mean to get my hopes up, but I want to believe,
that you are trying to do some good. But meanwhile,
I am ******* air into this body;
I can't feel my lungs,
and I realize,
that I don't want any of it.

pour fire on my hands just to see if I burn
cut rubies from my flesh just to make sure I bleed
because though I've a heartbeat beating on
I'm not sure I'm alive just because that I breathe

Death always wins,
                be it a subtle kiss
                        in to oblivion.


Or a slow caress into an inevitable
                                conclusion of demise.

But all will lay silently,
             we will breathe a last breath

upon the road of solitude as all
                     walk alone into deaths exhalation.

Then there is stillness and a static
                                           nothingness suffocating
  

us in to an unfamiliar future of breathless anxiety.