I forget how to breathe sometimes,
and every inhale becomes a gasp,
like my heart may stop
if I can’t control the rise and fall
of my chest.

I often count to ten, let my mind relax
between each breath and each number.
The calm is like invading sleep
as it creeps over my numb limbs,
and I wonder as my mind wanders,

is this what dying feels like?
Or is this simply the moment
we accept an outcome
we’re always too afraid
to attempt to comprehend?