when you held me last
there was a grey tension

the two of us, held in suspension
the air thick with questions

a grey tension, a fog placing the slightest pressure on my lungs
wondering when the air will clear

wondering if you will be here
when you are gone


those questions- small bricks
my clothes catch on them, they come out of nowhere
seemingly to fall from the buildings we have constructed together

a brick falls here
and there

empty spaces next to the window
missing


they have fallen on me,
luckily missing my head


these questions
were a grey fog
keeping my lungs from their full potential

these questions
were heavy bricks from our house
falling on top of me


and today
i could breathe
when i remembered that the fog is temporary

my bruises disappeared
when i remembered
that our house can always be repaired


so if you will take my hand

let's move to the lands where the air is crisp and clean
and rebuild our house
together