white tunic

(i have a white tunic now
and my face is kind.)
everything turn sour as my words touch them.
all become hazy under my gaze.
i breathe and watch the air burn, my dear.
i breathe and the air burns.

i dream of the days i forgot:
barefoot on a green field;
bubbles drifting with the wind;
dance hidden beneath each sentence;
and laughter that fill the lungs with ease.

i had hope in my step then;
the jumps were aimed for high,
jumping off was not in the scene.
i had nothing to lose you see.
i had nothing to lose so all were mine.
i had not yet slept.
i had not yet held.
i had not yet felt.
maybe the air was filled with ashes,
(my understanding of peace were always a little off)
but the air didn't burn, my dear.
-ashes and scars-
-barefoot and bubbles-
i wore all black, yes,
but i was skipping stones.