Sometimes, like wind caught up in the trees,
I can't breathe. I'm afraid to breathe
Brittle, granite, expansion, explosion
of heart right through rib cage,
to follow erosion,
slow, sandpapering of bone marrow.
I am afraid to breathe.
There is silence roaring from depths of shallow
ends and exits that leave me hollow.
I am too afraid. Don't call me on the telephone
because I will pretend I'm not there,
but please, keep hold of my backbone.
I'm not asking for yours to borrow.
Pull my strings, because everything
is so terribly still sometimes.
I am not asking much, just
that you will be here tomorrow.
If you can, I'd love you to stay until next week,
and those after that. I'm an excellent listener.
It's just, I am afraid to speak.
