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.
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