What are we now?
Every sentence is a forced commitment
and every word forgets its place.
Your breath is held above ground
and I gasp from underwater.
A stare, a sloppy whisper,
I am ****** from my mistakes.
"Strained" is too pretty of a word
to describe this.
I don't want to listen
to what you believe is right,
so I'm wrong and I'm
willing to live with this,
even if it means losing you
in my own self-discovery.