Photo by Jeffery Erhunse on Unsplash
The breath I took
when we first met
to rush out a flustered,
“Nice to finally meet you!”
was the same one
I last took before I was born,
when I was aged and lying
right next to you.
Perhaps that's why
I couldn't breathe.
About the Creator
R.C. Taylor
I write to invoke, to process, to honor, to resurrect, and—sometimes—to grieve but, above all, I write to be free.
Follow along for stories about a little bit of everything (i.e. nostalgia and other affairs of the heart).
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also become a paid subscriber, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.