Searching for Oxygen

And I want you;
more than ever,
the way that my right hand
wants to snatch a pencil
from my left
because it knows the left
will not treat it correctly.

The way you never
treat me correctly—-
now.

But back then…

My God,
you were my right hand.
Reaching inside my chest
and tying tourniquets around
my bleeding heart;
the one he left a car crash
mess.
Telling me to breathe easier,
the room is not filling up with
gas.
I’m only drowning myself,
so you will drive a little longer
to get me out of my cesspool head
and into secure meadow,
head lying in the grass.

You—-
saved me.
There was the
car turning into parking space I did not see.
You grabbed me,
moved me.
Safety-
net;

and yet

again
I fall back into step
with you
comfortably.
Easily.
Asshole
and his sidekick,
willingly.

You only held one arm out to hug me.
But when I wrapped my arms around your neck,
you pressed my back into your chest,
and maybe that is when I started
to breathe again.

I let you go off somewhere else,
where people know how to swim,
hearts beat,
and there is no me.
I am not certain,
but others have assured,
that when you’re without me,
you seem to breathe easy.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s