Breathe
I breathe
in your departing wake,
of your dust;
it burns
caustic soda crystals,
a trachea vent.
My words
pour out, evaporate,
water droplets;
they hiss
of dumb vapour
on solar dried concrete.
These prayers
a mortuary syntax,
cry of trust betrayed;
howl regret
for what has passed,
and cannot be reclaimed.
Zero host
of the stratosphere
can hear them;
to me,
yes, even me,
they have no meaning.
I breathe
in my own tears,
engulfed in hope;
recycling this
blur of pain
to feel you burn within.
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