Breathe through me,
let your voice be not silent.
Give unto me this deepest regret.
Share with me talk not of contempt,
rather of a soul burnt while self defying.
Shining through bleed these failing dreams.
Love is lost an echoing emptiness,
the cold and bitterness becomes me.
As warmth is slowly forgotten,
replace my badly wounded psyche
with a new sense of security.
I'll feel better in the morning
when the birds have come out again.

Now try if you can
to live through me.
Attempt if you must
to understand me.
This is how its supposed to be
when one loses all sense of direction.
So please wake me if you will,
when the rain has ended.
I'm sure that I'll have the best of times,
once the birds have come out again.

© Josh Selby