Breathing is for the Living

This feeling, like a fever.

Grotesque and so afraid.

An insect crawling in me.

Sending venom through my veins.


I wonder who you think you are.

On a scale from 1 to Z.

I wonder who you think I am.

To do me such a deed.


This feeling, like a tyrant.

Abundant and full of rage.

My spit has turned to gasoline.

My kiss became a cage.


And who am I?

To hold your strings?

And make you dance the dance you dare not dance?

And who am I?

The other woman?



The other woman.


You will not answer with that tongue.

It is far too tainted by your love.

For me. And for the taste.

Of the precious one you hold between your lips.

That takes you to a land of fibs and trips.


This feeling, like a longing.

So lost in thoughts of May.

When brightness was a poem.

And I knew how to wait.


This is my only answer.
My only thought.
My only prayer.
Give up what makes you evil.

Choose love over despair.