I lay with you
upon the foreign couch
knowing you only enough
to want to know more.
Knowing I wanted to hold
my belly to your back
feeding upon your rhythms
as I draped my arm
lightly around you.
I found myself struggling
to breathe with your pace,
and then against,
to lessen my intrusion
and let you relax.
Denying my body
its most basic instinct
to try to provide you
your greatest comfort.
Through the years
I have never really learned
how to breathe with you,
and sometimes forgot how to
just for myself.
My struggle deepened
until finally I saw
you walking away.
I swallowed hard
and gasped deeply,
never quite catching my breath.
Stunned from the shock,
weary from our journey,
pondering your loss,
and with every second thought
Always fearing to breathe.
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