tagNon-Erotic PoetryHolding my breath

Holding my breath


life can be death.
what good is breath
released without reason,
except to put one foot
in front of the other

covering ground
to return to a home
devoid of sound
or soul to greet you there,
where only letters, clothing
and scents are left

forming a phantom
of past pleasures,
treasures tarnished
by dreams corroded
through calamity.

no cause for food to mouth,
when memories of past meals
shared together side by side,
turns stomach to tidal pool
of gastric acid churning,
bitter, burning bile.

instead consuming myself
has become my meal of choice
as the voice
which once gave purpose
becomes an age old song
I know I have heard before.

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bytungtied2u© 5 comments/ 4817 views/ 2 favorites

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