Rungs.

Am I breathing deeper?
Is there more air in my lungs?
Am I one step further,
Up a ladder full of rungs?
I'd hoped to climb back to you,
But are you climbing the other way?
I have to keep on breathing.
What games will you choose to play?

At you.

Sometimes,
There is gentle light in a day.
Storm clouds can be waiting,
Not far away,
But there can still be a glow,
One moment or a few.
I am happy,
When I am smiling at you.

Golden days.

Oh my heart,
Will they understand you,
As much as I try to do?
Will they be generous,
Will they see your soul,
And know that your north is true?
Will they have patience,
To accept who you are,
And the uniqueness of your ways.
Oh my heart,
May they be gentle with you,
And make these golden days.

To a trigger.

My reaction was to a trigger.
My reaction said so much.
I did not want any comfort.
I did not want another's touch.
I wanted as I spoke it.
I wanted to be free,
To say life as I saw it.
To express in a way that's me.
My reaction was to a trigger.
My reaction said it all.
I have a way to climb.
This journey has turned in to a fall.

Weakening voice.

You might feel ready,
But I am not.
That does not matter.
Not a jot.
Time rolls on.
I have no choice.
As your age increases,
It weakens my voice.
It can never weaken,
The power of my heart.
You will always consume it.
Together or apart.

Damaged.

I feel compelled to see,
But don't want to know.
I lay here,
Waiting for sleep to flow.
In the hope tomorrow,
Will bring a memory hole,
And blind my already,
Damaged soul.

Bottle.

If only I could bottle days like these,
And have them on repeat.
Surviving with a hint of glow,
Would feel like no mean feat.
I know it doesn't work like that.
I know it cannot be.
So I cherish those we do get.
Memory is the key.