and when I think of it I can’t breathe. I’m not saying you killed me,
I’m saying that you are killing me a little more each day,
slowly, without even touching me.
Not like you did. Not like hands that held me down so my body fought for
breath. Your hands.
I see your body like a movie reel, playing over and over
in my mind. And each time, you take the air out of the room.
I’ve always struggled to exhale, to let go,
to release. Now you have taken my inhale.