In This Breath

It’s as if I’m wired down to something dully electric. Something sharp and boring and nameless. But I’m learning to see it. Recognize it. Try on titles and let go of results. Something like body issues, depression, loneliness. But those don’t last. Aren’t genuine. Are too easy. There is more complexity. More layers. It is something closer to home, intimacy, vision. It is something about finding my place in each of those. Seeing myself glitter and fade when held by them. Wrestling to get free of expectation. Mine and theirs. Feeling caged, suffocated by broad possibility. But then the breath comes back and life is abundant, powerful, erotic, safe. And that fitful ache feels like a distant fever dream. Because breath has become the habit these days, indifference is fleeting and this skin is beloved.