I am too old to breathe and too old to die
So this leaves me where but between
Lost in a seethe of lie
Strike me from my bones
Break pieces
As morsel eat
Until all consumed
I may pass on
Or give me over to fires embrace
One last or is it first passion
A lover who at least knows her worth
Pick glass out of wounds long closed
Like memories pulling free
So short a life consumed in smallest
Motions
A drifter encased in a life of choices fallen to dust
Pause to inhale but is it life or just a slipping of darkness into day
Bound by our shackles forged in persuit
And struck round until freedom is as foreign as love.