Postponed Breathing:Part 2
Holding your breath is not as exhausting as it seems. I'm not even gasping for air anymore. My God has granted me the gills to keep breathing in exchange for my eyes.
I still see her beauty and it's tethered to an end that's opposite of me.
Now I need water and forever-crashing waves.
Currents and tides and forever-crashing waves.
Shores and piers and forever-crashing waves.
Objects that keep me afloat upon forever-crashing waves.
I hold my breath not for love, not for affection.
I've devised my own air which seeps in the psychology of her beauty. It does not come from forever-growing trees.
So if I don't wake from my forever-slowing sleep, ask her to resuscitate me.
Postponed Breathing: Part 3
I wrote a letter to her today as I sat in my favorite cafe with hazelnut coffee and Belgian waffle.
Without the proper stationary, the back of the receipt sufficed.
For the sake of my ego, I've been lying to my friends, students, and current lovers, telling them I've postponed breathing as if I have no need for air, it's useless, using metaphors to embellish the truth...
They admire my passion.
I am weak, but I tell them the contrary for only she knows the truth.
Without an address and remaining anonymous, simply stated:
"RETURN MY LUNGS."