Breathe In
When our breath is no longer enough.
Breathe in the roar of cars. Breathe in the empty room. Breathe in the cat.
Just breathe. It’s hard and wrong.
My heart beats short and quick. I take my morning pee
and it’s still hard to breathe.
Breathe in the bacon cooked four doors down. Breathe in the baby screaming next door. Breathe in last night’s dreams.
Just breathe. It’s another day.
I count the seconds, waiting for each to become minutes, hours,
and then tomorrow again.
Breathe. The day will fade.
My heart. Empty. Echoing. I look over at the bed.
She’s gone.
Breathe in my wife’s morning breath. Breathe her side of the bed.
I can’t.
Nothing’s left but my life.
She’s been gone longer than I have been present longer than my needing her.
I will not find her again.
Breathe in.
It’ll be over soon.
_________________________ Michael Ritoch plays at being a poet/writer. He finds joy in his wife, two daughters, cats, one is really fat and the other is neurotic, reading philosophy written by old dead guys, and his friends. He writes about leadership, pain, life, suffering, and whatever comes to mind.
If you enjoyed this poem maybe you’ll like these three as well. Thank you.
