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breathing meditations work
if you don’t have to fight to breathe,

is it hard to catch your breath in stage four?

asphyxiation is no longer erotic when inescapable.

we never played those games, you and I.

now, i assume the part of stoic wife caretaker.
and, you take the role of a man waving good-bye.

you always made waves in my butter.
you were. you are, you will be. you will not be.

i don’t believe in god,
but i always believed in you.
believe, will believe, will not see.


“Eat microbiotic.”




nagging you well.

the skunk smell of weed and irony
will bring you to me as it now agitates separates us.

at the back of my throat and tongue, i will taste our first
meal at fellini’s where you spilled marinara sauce on your lapel.
a stain never removed. a jacket, your last sports coat, donated
carelessly to the good will.

you are the lemon in my black, lukewarm tea.
god, i will miss yellow.

now, you offer an apricot and lavender sunset.
the sweet replaces the sour in time for the
bitter-skinned shroud i don to grieve and laugh at you.

you make me think of my mother
and how she adored the gospel,
“jesus loves me.”

i was never that sure about you or
our endings…