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Mar 2020
Every exhale, a little bit of you leaves me.
Like poison leaving my body.
Every day, it gets a little easier to breathe again.
I don’t know how long I’ve spent holding my breath.
But I feel it.
I feel the air fill my lungs.
I feel myself learn how to breathe again.
To be me again.
At one point I thought you were the air.
It turns out you were the smoke that filled my lungs.
Nicole Gaudiano
Written by
Nicole Gaudiano
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