we were both in search of a
h-heart b-beat (h-heart b-beat)
in the suffocating safety
beneath our comforter

that warm, gentle hum
before we are born again
our heads surfacing
when we can no longer breathe

did we really breathe, though?
what were we battling, even?
what is the prize
for a war on dreaming?

maybe just rest
finally

i guess, yeah

rest

my mouth hung open
like the door
a small draft entering
this empty room
like my small exhale
leaving the shell
of my body
it clung to the thought of you
like a locust to the tree
my vacant form
crumpling in the wind