This sickening depth of damage you’d leave?
(blow it out slow)
The hole so deep and wide
an ache so subtly gnawing
(don’t forget to breathe again…)
Good riddance, I’d said
(force air in)
Don’t let the fucking door hit you
(fake bravado exhale)
I’m better off.
I don’t need you…
Air bounces around
frantically looks for an exit,
erupts from the empty cavern of my chest
bursting its way out of my lungs.
I don’t need…you
Hold still now.
To the sound of hollowness inside,
Was it like this before?
Was my heart always a black hole?
it beats with the scrape of metal on glass,
leaves dry water rings in the bottom of a heat-baked pot.
Where is the air?
The rumble of thunder but no relief of rain
The one shoe drop.
Your end of the phone
dead, weighted silence.
Finally, you’re gone!
(breathe, damn it)
Tears trace down dusty length of my neck
(Gasp, Gulp, Cough)
Darkness drops and nothing but space grows
in the garden of a heart once so carefully tended.
I don’t need you.
Un comentario sobre “Exhale by Sara Reichert”
Love the way the breathing has been weaved in. Perfect. 🙂
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