Today I have to tell myself to breathe.

I know that if I stopped forming the words silently with my lips,
a cry would escape followed by an avalanche of saved up emotions manifested in every possible physical way.

I know that if I stopped,
I would crumble to the ground and I would not arise until you,
and only you,
kissed and coaxed until the hysterics turned into hiccups and the salty tears were only traceable by faint, powdery tracks down my cheeks.

I also know that you won’t come.

So today my mantra is “inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale.”