You sigh too much, he said,

why do you do that?

How could I say that my

soul sighed, that my heart

released held breath because,

of what it knew and could

not say, that with each sigh,

the sadness was expelled,

just for that one brief

moment, until life drew

back in again, the grief he

had ushered into my mind,

and which pulsated through

my veins, like blood, over-

salted, and sometimes bitter,

lingering in the mouth, clinging

to the tongue, washing teeth,

set, resolute and ready;

because there was nothing

I could do to change what

was, or who he had become.

And so I sighed. Too much.

About rosross

Editor, writer, poet.
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