I dreamed I was breathing, but awoke, suddenly, to realize that I was not. My breath was caught on last night’s good bye kiss, which I suddenly realized meant more than just “see you later.” It made my air clench in my throat, and I was getting faint.

I was able to cough it clear, as far as my lips, where i could taste your 11 dollar a case beer, and that half cigarette, you swore you’d quit. I finally spit it out and was clear for a moment.

I was finally able to inhale deeply and feel the cold air of my bedroom move into my chest, and show me how it will feel without you. I could smell the soap that you bought at the street fair, this summer, and haven’t used in months, I breathed deeply and it became warmer, inside, like you had returned.

This breath is practiced. it is habitual and happens without my realization. It comes from so deep inside, that it is part of me, but it is not mine. Someday, I will breathe normally, again. You will not be the oxygen, and will not gasp in your absence. I will not exhale my desire, and be confounded by the inability to inhale your response.

Some day, this breath will be my own.