The air is yours.
Except…
Is it?
Because when the dust settles,
And you’re buried so deep
You can’t even begin to breathe,
It doesn’t feel like yours.
Your lungs refuse to live;
They drain you of every beat
That your heart struggles to make.
And as the sun sinks
Into the depths of your mind
Even you don’t want to divulge,
And the shadows that have been hiding
Away from the blaze,
Become as apparent as the darkness they create,
You close your eyes,
And open yourself,
To nothing.
I like to believe in daydreams.
When the pieces of the sky
Fall into your lap,
And with outstretched arms you cradle them.
Embrace them.
Hold them.
You take each fleck,
Each spark of your mind,
And draw the stars so bright
You blind yourself with wonder.
And it takes a second to steady yourself,
Because the hole in your heart
Takes a battering,
From everything your world couldn’t be.
So don’t be afraid to dream.
Because when your lungs get punctured,
And the sky begins bleeds,
You’re going to need an escape.
And it doesn’t hurt
To want a world,
Where the ground you lay on
Is made of all the colours of beauty.
Where the rocks you rest on
Are no longer stone.
Where the words written in crux of your soul,
Display themselves as a fire,
Ready to be burned.
Where the birds fly so low,
You can feel the wind in their wings.
And you realise,
This…is what life should be.
Amy Elizabeth Poetry 