I'm too young to feel this old,
Mentally too old to be his young.
Took a shotgun to my pillow
And told the dreams that I was done.
I stopped buying breath mints
So the devil might stop trying to take my breath,
I stopped believing in church when
They they denied the only saint here left.
I'm sure in your religion I'm going to hell,
But in mine, it's only the hipocritical who fell.
Farewell.

I've had my fair share of brushes with death
Painting me into this man
But her I am, standing tall enough,
To help you stand.
I've been paying this life forward,
In a karmatic effort to see old age
And laughing at how silly it must sound
To hope I can live long enough
To be broken down.

I'm not sure of very much,
But I hope to keep dancing

do you hear
like ringing of still bells
sound like precious silver
clinging to the flush of a cheek
The soft sobs of her soul
when you berate her
her whisper but warm breath on your neck
exhale birthing desire
“   no   “
Have your way
Have her sorrow
Shyness?
oh dear. you are mortally worn
by morning

you looked at me and the sky turned pink
the groud turned peach
savoring the moment without a single blink
the colors become distinctive, aware of each
my knees began to shake
the walls turned blue
who knew you could take
my breath away again, deja vu


© L.F

and listen
to the sound
of your breath

one day,
you won't hear it
anymore

slow mornings,
soft lights.
easy touches,
sleepless nights.

steady breaths,
messy hair.
heavy eyelids,
cool air.

side-ways smiles,
delicate skin.
hushed voices,
my morning sin.

I'll stand here, on the edge of time waiting for the world to pass me by
soak in the sun, with every last breath
then disappear when the smell of rain starts to water the earth

When the soil rises into my soul, blanketing my heart with it's earthy embrace
I'll soak in the water drops, the ones that dance on my finger tips
and watch the clouds start to grey

I'll let you colour me, with your rain
I'll let you cover me with your pain
I'll let you envelope me in your everlasting sent
oh petrichor, I'll even let you take my breath

i inhale until the ashes turn white
like the pure once driven snow
now muddled gray
my lungs scorched black
cannot bloom
no flowered prose
can escape my lips
dry and cracked earth
i want to rest
and let these embers die
crackle and go out
but they hold on to my labored breath
trying to ignite again.