To become one with your breath is such a freeing thing
To calm your mind..
All you think is in... and out...
Your stomach expanding, contracting
The slight stretch as you shift into the next pose
Hold...
Breathe...
In...
Out...
Be gentle
Look inside yourself
In that moment nothing else matters
Don't think think 'Am I doing this right?'
Just think of your breath
Lavender scents my room
But I'm not here
I'm my breath
The air..
The wind..
Caressing the earth somewhere miles away
And here at the same time...
I am free
And it is time to free myself
Of all the toxic things..
Breathe them out
Send them away
Invite in healing and light
Magic in your way
To cleanse the mind
To cleanse the soul
All you need to do is...
Close your eyes...
And breathe...
In...
Out...

I've seen you there
amongst the lavender fields
when you thought no one was watching.
Memories that dance
a longing daydream,
weaving strings of lilac through my veins.
I knew you would plague me,
but my eyes supped upon you.
Supped and supped again
until lavished by an allure
a thousand French patisseries
could never usurp.
Your taste inspired madness -
a craze you too endured.
We turned over pages
and bewildered them with Eden's of ivy
that flourished within our skulls.
If Van Gogh were a writer
he'd write like us.
A fable of seraphic beauty
and lucid insanity,
knotted together
with existential philosophy.
"Being and Nothingness"
(Sartre understood)
but we were 50 years too late
to the Café de Flore.
Those were memories of yesteryear,
sealed with the rosy hue of antiquity
I was always fond of.
I can almost lick that scent of lavender
that clings to the photographs,
but I fear my tongue may bleed.
So I admire them on a mantelpiece
in a dust-soaked room
where all that I love
(and have loved)
may live.
I know that room not by daylight,
for I dare not be seen to enter.
Only the high rise moon knows
that those footprints
belong to me.

There's a haze-around the thoughts of you, a soft filtered glow,lighter in the corners and warm splashed flares that fill the frames.
Were there flowers in your veins, petals soaked blood that blossomed across your cheeks?
Maybe this is why your lips tasted of lavender. Are we the love we have made, are we more than the breath
that rose and the blush that spread and the shaking hands holding shaking backs?
I never knew my memory i could come saturated with texture and temperature and the sensation of your hands on my crotch.
I swear there is a garden chest
I know i can feel you blooming
I will trace the roots across your flesh, and i cannot stop licking my lips.

i can make one bottle of beer last hours
From cold to lukewarm
My *** settling into a state of what I call
Perma buzzed
Wussy sip after wussy sip
Perplexed looks and slights from friends
It serves me right to drink so slow,
Evading the glass bottle bottom but
I guess I want to be able to hold onto something so much,
It warms up to me and serves me well.

~

Right now, I want to be buried in a house of lavenders.

what a strange quiet house I'm in
Where i can't even hear myself think
Bottle after bottle and the silence ensues
I am alone here, and I will be alone here
For as long as the vacancy in my chest
And the absence of my mind
continues

~
I want a house overrun with lavenders for my children to play with.

Lavender & Honey**

You know the age old question:
If you were a drink
What would you be?
I must be alcoholic.
My highs and lows are so extreme.
And it seems i've been transforming
A lot of good little ****** girls
Into blood lusting sirens
As of late.
I would come in a tall glass
Brimming with lavender & honey.
Honey is usually sweet,
But sometimes
Can be overshadowed in bitter.
And much like nectar
I didn't care for myself as a child.
Lavender
Because I try to be soothing
And envelop you in love
You can tell me of your pain & fears
And I will hold them closer than my own
That's what lavender is for, you see.
Comfort.
I suppose I could have
A hint of bergamot as well.
Though I swear i'm not pretentious.
I'm just trying to make things Interesting.
So what do you think?
If I was a drink.
Would you drink me?

Streams of colour
In constant motion
showing shades of beauty hidden
Powered by the wind
As it caresses the river of scent
Gently, softly, lovingly
And moves through the rows
Never stopping, always moving
Following the wind
Lavender tributaries
in a Sensual  scented sea of colour
Never ending.