by Corinne Ferry

Created on: October 15, 2008

Limitless mileage

How is it that the illusion of you rests so soundly at the base of my lungs?

Controls my breath to let me know when I am excited,

or sad with just the right amount of longing in between.

Just because I can't see doesn't mean you're not there.

Shades of green can't be compared to a similar need to be wanted by pretty things.

Things that will never change into me or you.

We drift through an everlasting sea of new hopes,

eating hearts like air.

The transparencies of our own are disturbing and safe,

flotation devices that keep us from getting in too deep.

Jumping from cliffs,

submerging,

without one final deep breath.

The illusion of you rests soundly in the base of my lungs,

I feel you when I least expect it

I inhale you because inside of me,

you are involuntary.

A piece of work at best.

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