Breathing Patterns

It’s so difficult to look back when every image is cracked.
Just a cover turning pages each day in my almanac.
You see, I move beside the shipwreck of where my years have gone
Wondering if fortune will smile upon me long enough to drag you along.
Your breathing patterns bring the sun.
New voices for when days are done.
You’ve filled my lungs. For a cautious optimistic,
I’m best kept as a party guest for now a welcome contribution
You moving from east to west.
If I stick to what I know then I’m just stuck to what I’ve done.
Still sore from being burned by every fire I’ve begun,
Every postcard is a post-war transmission and every word’s a new beginning.
I’ve destroyed my reputation, struck fear in the hearts of men
And I’ve become a walking complication.
Can’t make those mistakes again.
Our breathing patterns bring the sun.
New voices for when you have gone.
You’ve filled my lungs.