Breathes of Life

When fresh air
Becomes stale
Stale air can seem fresh and
Poisoned air, exciting.

Only when your chest is constricted
And you lie hunched against a wall
Tears streaming down, staining the floor
Will you realize what you gave up

For this.

Perhaps I spent so much time breathing stale air
That I forgot the taste of moist morning fogs
Forgot the sound of rumbling storms
The sting of crisp blue mornings

And lost myself in thick billowing gas.


Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s