At least my subconscious
Knows not to feel guilty
Anymore for kissing strangers
Or people from my past
In my dreams. I don't have
To pretend it was only
Him now. It's rather nice.

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Lungs filled up
with
questions questions questions.
Like in the pool as a child,
How long can you hold your breath?

Held under,
Burning pushing screaming
You've got to hold your breath.

The fraction left not choked out
by the uncertainties of the future
is weak, fatigued, and plagued by
doubt.

Minuscule trivialities become juggernauts
crushing the remains of structure.

When will I reach the surface?
What do I have left?
When can I breathe again?

I feel you
in my bones.

All 206 of them.

the first rays
bleed through
our old quartered
window panes
--slightly yellowed with
old age and neglect--
it casts a golden light
across the room
falling on top of the bed
as we once did
young lovers eclipsed in
passion too strong to control
muscles tensed with love
as shadows roar like lions
in back arched ecstasy
across the canvas wall
there's no passion
anymore
only the golden
light from
the window
as it falls
on an old man
alone with his shadow

Haunted and falling
A new life is calling
Pulling her closer
Pushing her away

With long lost words taken
A love is mistaken
Pulling her under
Crashing deceit's waves

She's drowning and screaming
The moonlight is gleaming
And nothing is left of
Her innocent mind

She is torn and forsaken
Light in her eyes taken
Life was once beautiful
Beauty now solely a lie

A tourniquet, bleeding
Her heart stops its beating
And nothing is left of
Her in this time