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.

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