Posted in life, Poems, thoughts

— Your lungs– 

Your lungs 

paper-mache worlds caged by lonesome bone.

Your lungs

 lined with the smoke of your impermanence.

Your lungs,

faded pink, breathe in the words of great minds

that taught your heart how to live.
I think:

This world can only hold so much pain,

That humanity cannot refrain

from evil,

from billowing clouds of thought pollution

and

the  allure of dancing on life’s deflated lungs.
Your lung’s edges

 melanized like my contaminated  heart.

Your lungs

like clay that has yet to be molded by the hands of time.

Your lungs 

vast oceans of air 

that are oceans from mine,

tiny capsules of loss.
 It is said,  “Death is the mirror in which the entire meaning of life is reflected.”

And when I look into it’s crystaline surface,

all I see is the vacancy of breath upon breath

and your lungs

writhing beneath a cloud of stubborness.

 
Your  pretty lungs, 

haunt me sometimes.

-Eva M.M.

Note that the quote on death being a mirror is from,  “The Tibetian book of living and dying “.

Thank you all for reading and sharing your feedback and thoughts with me.

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Author:

I am a young and enthusiastic writer, fresh out of highschool and into college at IUSB. I babysit and work and live life to it's fullest. I write. I read. I do yoga. And plan to become. Yoga intructers as well. I grew up on a farm and can't,t wait to move back to the country in my tiny house I have already planned out. Sometimes I'm a little melodramatic but rarely. I'm a spiritual healer, a hopeless romantic, a book worm, and very nostalgic. Thanks for stopping by.

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