On the topic, to Breathe:

E'er since that day I've been holding something back. Something unsaid, something you won't like to hear. 

Afraid of my own reflection I seek answers in slate. Stoned by realizations, held down by the fear of my own feelings, that was how I lived. 

I take my first breath.

E'er since that day I've been wishing we never met. Something untold, something I don't want to hear.

Afraid of your reflection I sought questions in dread. Eaten by emotions, held down by the worry of my own prejudice, that was how I died.

Where were you when you left?

I took my first breath.

If we never meet again,

then it's for the better.

If we never speak again,

then it's for the better.

You took my first words, you took my first love, you took my first hate, you took it all without even knowing, and perhaps, that's the only better. 

The only part that stops bleeding. 

The only part that needed healing, the only part.

I'm running out of first breaths.

Last one, of the beginning, of the newfound pathways and neural-rural routes we discovered, the day we took to the countryside and stayed. 

Again, of the midst of fake tears and fake laughs; pulling away with a grin and a torched, ash-ridden face.

Pray,

pray,

prayed that you'd never return. Leave, leave! Get out of here! I didn't say.

I lost my first breath.

Until the sun shone over my stricken face,

Until the canopy in the leaves formed a cradle of thirteens.

Until everything. Until I noticed, too, I was holding 

A breath I never swallowed.

One more time.

One more breath.

Another first, a new day.

I take my first breath.

~ 06:35 PM. MARCH 2025.