CC0

Running Out of Air

I didn’t need anyone after all.
I was perfectly capable
of being miserable alone.
Living outside of life
was a kind of home.

But, how much staring at walls
can one person take
before cracking wide open?
How much distance does it take
to quit feeling at all?
How long is it
before everything loses meaning?

Struggling to the surface
in the face of indifference,
finding a glass surface,
running out of air,
screaming silently as the bubbles rise
and gather just under the surface,

not a scream of fear,
despair,
or even panic,
but the air in my lungs
shouting with all its might:

I will breath again.

Get notified when Heath publishes a new story