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Ava  Jan 2018
Ten Tiny Breaths
Ava Jan 2018
Ten tiny breaths I don’t want to take
Ten tiny breaths were such a horrible mistake
Ten tiny breaths from me to you
Ten tiny breaths that tore us in two
Ten tiny breaths were more than enough
Ten tiny breaths were never so tough
Ten tiny breaths and I let you go
Ten tiny breaths then you know
Ten tiny breaths I wish I’d swallowed
Ten tiny breaths of which followed;

Breath one; a word spoken much too quickly
Breath two; a word that turned your face sickly
Breath three; a word cried out in rage
Breath four; a word that broke me from a cage
Breath five; a word that marked the beginning of the end
Breath six; a word ensuring a tear never to mend
Breath seven; a word so fowl it pains me to call my own
Breath eight; a word more final than stone
Breath nine; no word just a breath to prepare
But no breath could move along the sorrow in there
Breath ten was only a breath after all
No more words were needed for tears to fall
Nihl  Oct 2013
Breathe With Me
Nihl Oct 2013
Try to hold your breath while reading this…

Did you know that you are alive because you are taking approximately 16 breaths per minute. On average that is around
960 breaths an hour,
23040 breaths a day
and
8409600 a year.

That means if you were to live to 80 years old by chance, you would have inhaled and exhaled around 672,768,000 breaths within your entire lifetime!

I don't know about you, but a year feels like a hell of a long time, it feels like there is a few too many left and too long to care… too much spare time, time to live.
Empty living space.
But I am 22… that mean that I have inhaled and exhaled…

( 8,409,600 x 22 = 185,011,200 times )

That means that I only have around
487756800 breaths
left in my life,
and that’s if I am to survive until 80 years old.
But lets be honest,
I've an acquired taste for liquor, smoke, danger, excitement and unhealthy food habits.
So it’s likely I’ve more like
151,372,800 breaths
left in my life.
Even in the best case I’ve a couple hundred million breaths spent and only a mere couple hundred breaths hold great memories.
As hard as it is to live by personally, I sometimes wonder why others or myself even allow room in their lives for or give strength to hatred when we exist coterminously as a collective species.
It’s simply nothing but a wasted breath.
When you think a little on the breaths you have left if feels a little like a countdown, and it even makes something you've probably taken for granted
like a great,
deep,
long,
breath…
tastes…
just…
a little…
bit…
sweeter.

N.H.
Carlos A Espino  Jul 2012
Feeling
Carlos A Espino Jul 2012
I start writing this lines for whomever is willing to read then...

Today I could not reconcile with my sleep, lately it seems we are sworn enemies, battling every single night until one of us is so exhausted it forfeits its own life and gives in to the overwhelming force of the other entity, tonight I was the one who lost the fight... I lay in agony writing these words to try and take the pain away, trying to keep my mind sane sorounded by this madness... It is a quiet night, and all you can hear are my fingers on the keyboard, and the breaths I take to exhale the smoke in my lungs.

The minutes pass and i cling myself to a thoughts that seems to be so distant, memories of happier days flow in and out of my mind, floating in nothingness, like a beautiful song with no one there to appreciate its beauty... No one...

Hours go by, and still no sign of any type of existence whatsoever, just me, the smoke and the sound of this keyboard... Just when my soul is about to go stray, at the point of no return, I hear footsteps from afar, FINALLY!, she has returned! I can feel different things happening inside me, if I could see myself from the outside, it would be like watching a young boy waiting for a present, THAT present that he has always wished for... Soon all the commotion inside me its betrayed by the reality of what lies in front of my eyes, that siluette in the darkness does not belong to my long wished gift, to that little music box that holds my heart, that figure coming out of the darkness correspond to a very old friend, a dear friend that I have missed, yet, never wished to be face to face again...

My dear friend finally walks out of the darkness and standing in front of me without saying one word, I can see a small hint of happiness in those beautiful eyes filled with sorrow, anger, wisdom... I can feel her getting close to me and smell that unique perfume that I was acustome to, it is almost like I could taste her skin at the moment that she kisses my forehead, I sit still, frozen, afraid, wanting to run far from her presence and yet I stayed there, intoxicated by her astonishing beauty... The only thing that I can remember thinking is the yells inside my head, screaming COWARD!

She sits quietly next to me on the stairs, I get my matches and light up another cancer stick, like my old buddy was used to called them, she looks at the box and without saying a word takes one to her mouth and lights it up... I could only see the bright red light, reflected in her eyes as she embraces a slow death with each breath she takes, I notice that she still has the smile on her face while she stares at me, right in my eyes... I feel at ease knowing that I am not with a stranger, knowing that my old friend was there for a reason, a reason that at the moment I couldent control but clearly understand. Everything seems to slow down, its even more quiet than before, u can hardly hear the typing on the keyboard anymore... All I can hear are the breaths she takes while she smokes her cigarette... The minutes go by and not one word has come out her tempting mouth, she is almost exactly as I remember her, quiet, yet on this visit she seems more mature, sensual, more natural, passive and also more beautiful, it is very difficult to describe but sitting there I almost felt relieve... Its like our minds are connected, i see, i feel things she is carrying within her, it burns my insides like a shot of tequila, slowly ohh soo slowly takes over my body... She giggles as she sees me light yet another cigarette, she knows that she has me, she knows that any moment i will succumb to the idea of having her in my presence... I keep writing, incredibly, I feel my fingers lighter, faster...

20 minutes go by like nothing and as I still sit there, she finally makes her move, she whispers something between breaths, I get hypnotized by her gorgeous eyes, her wonderful smile and those lips that I've been dying all night to taste... She leans forward and takes my hand, I stand like if I can't even control my own body, she closes the door behind us, the room grows even darker and just a little bit colder, as I turn around before I could make sense of what is happening, I'm shock in surprise to feel her lips on mine, I try to step away but she holds on tight like if she needs me, almost like we are two sides of the same coin... Soon I surrender to her touch, her soft warm lips, her tongue dancing with mine, I want to stop but she is not willing to let go, or you can say that I'm just not strong enough to let go of her... I can feel her hands on my back and her fingers gently taking off my shirt, caressing my chest, licking my neck... The room still seems cold even with everything that is going on, it is a strange feeling, but I am more focus on my dear friend that has not visited me in such a long time, she still hassent said a word as she slowly walks to my bedroom, I can see her stunning body perfectly because with each step she takes, her hands and fingers play with a different part of her clothing as she takes them off and seduces me to come close, so close that our breaths become a single one, I can't control myself anymore, after fighting my desires for so long I give in to her presence, to her will, to all her company brings to my life... I take hold of her fragile body, with my hands I explore every inch of her, kissing, biting, losing my mind with her taste, her smell... I can feel that this is not right, but as I look at her, everything else tells me to keep on... To move, one step at a time...

Slowly but surely our bodies begin to accept one another, to enjoy more and more the simple fact that it feels like they belong together... Together, at least at the moment... Laying on my bed, u can hear her nails playing with my back, my shoulders, my waist, I can hear another whisper between her breaths as we make things happen that you have only heard of. She is not so quiet anymore, she still keeps her impeccable beauty, but the beauty I see now, is more natural, more unique than any I have ever seen, I can see her face blushing with little tears of sweat dripping from her chest, her face... Her beauty still lies there, but now I want her more than before, if there would be a form of describing what my eyes could see, would be as simple as saying that she looks like reaching the heavens and hell at the same time. Quickly she turns my body around and I can see the full splendor of her naked siluette, a body that belongs to me, but a soul that will never be mine... I reach out to touch her face, its not so soft anymore, it feels more rubbished, more raw, more exiting than anything that I have ever seen or felt before... She takes my finger and carries it to her mouth, smiles at me and then makes my hand travel all the corners of her sensual body, every inch of untouched skin... I feel like the moment will never end, I feel eternity has nothing against me... But inside me, I can sense that I'm wrong, that I will be sorry for the present, wishing for the past, and hating my future... In the back of my mind, my will yells for me to realize that it will hurt more tomorrow, just as I almost break from her spell she bends over me and yet again I could only make out a whisper between breaths, a sign without reason... I can feel her body laying on top of mine, hearts beating together, deep breaths and long stares at each other... She still hassent said a word, her fingers play with my chest hair, and her eyes filled with sorrow, anger and wisdom shed a tear, just one tear, for the reasons we both know of, we know that she has to go, that I don't want her to stay next to me, because I'm not willing to take all the things she is accustom to bring with her... She feels used, worst than a *****, worst than a simple piece of meat... But she understands, she can no longer be visiting me, she can no longer make my soul her's... She will have to comfort herself in the fact that she will always be with me, but never taking control... At the moment she stands, looks at me with her dark beautiful eyes, picks up her clothes and kisses my forehead once more... I lay on my bed, watching her beauty, looking as she covers her gorgeous body by the clothes design to hide it... She stands by the door and hints me to stand next to her, I feel her arms wrap tightly around my waist and her head resting on my chest, at the moment I can finally understand my quiet dear friend, as her last whisper I can only make out the words "I will always be by your side"... She turns to the door and back the stairs she came from, and I just stand there, still, lighting another match to smoke another slow poison in my lungs... At the far distance I can see my dear old friend looking back at the space on my door, its like I almost know what she will say, what she will do... She disappears into the night, only to be seen or felt by those who wish for her company or desire her taste, I only stand there, with a smoke in hand whispering for my own amusement, "goodbye dear friend, goodbye old companion, goodbye my lover, goodbye loneliness"



The End
i know is NOT exactly a "poem" but i wanted to get you guys feedback. thank you for reading.
Jae Mar 2013
As I listen to her last breaths, I lay curled on a hard recliner, sick to stomach and head, staring with her with the same blank blue eyes.
As I listen to her last breaths, I think what a cruel, painful and ugly world this kind, joyful, beautiful world can be. I think how broken and sad is her spirit, my spirit.
As I listen to her last breaths, I think of puppet shows and Mother Goose, of paintings and the blue bike she never rode. Of art classes and musicals, piano songs, of cheezits and coke. I think how sweet she is, even at the end and how lovely they all say she is. She is. Always.
As I listen to her last breaths, I think of high school yearbook pictures, of Hungarian Goulash, of sneaking to sleep at the end of her bed, of her notes to herself. I think of fear and worry, pain and disease. Of love and joy, of wit and family.
As I listen to her last breaths, I think I didn't appreciate enough, share enough, talk enough do enough, show how very much I loved enough.
I think I should tell her how incredibly strong - incredibly strong- she is.
As I listen for her last breath.
KCKing Jul 2015
Pleasure of the pain
I moan
pleasure under your hands
Rough hands that grip my neck
Fingers slipping down my side
My side onto my thighs
Between my thighs, I bite my lip
You hear me breath
My breath is taken
You grab my hair
"Don't make a sound"
inside me
Your fingers long,
"You're ready for me"
Deep breaths I take
Deep breaths as you enter me
Deep breaths as you force me over
Harder, deeper, rougher
Deep breaths because I want it
The way you're giving it to me
The way you make me take it
I gasp, your hand around my throat
Again, I gasp....
I moan, feeling every inch
Slow breaths, I touch your wrist
To feel your strength
To feel your hand so tight
To hear you whisper,
"You belong to me"
Fallen Angel  Mar 2015
Cat Woman
Fallen Angel Mar 2015
The wrinkles etched in her face
are like memories etched in my mind.
Cat Woman played in the background
as the sound of my grandmothers breaths echoed behind me.
Her breaths two seconds apart
two seconds longer I knew she was still here,
two seconds I still had her,
just two seconds longer.
We watched slowly as cat woman came to find her killer
Grandma came to find her last breath.
2 seconds,
3 seconds,
Cat woman wakes to find jewels spread across her bed
and Grandmas breaths began to slow.
4 seconds,
5 seconds,
as cat woman goes to see the lady with all the cats
Grandmas breaths get further apart.
6 seconds
.................
nothing.
As Patience accepts that she's cat woman
Grandmas breaths officially stop.
While Cat Woman leaps and bounds through life to find her killer in the movie
Grandma is taken from me in real life.
With her heart stopping as the doctors prayer ends.
6 seconds
turns to minutes
turns to hours
turns to days
and still every time I close my eyes I see it.
See her chest stop rising
her legs stop twitching
and her heart stop beating.
When it gets too quiet
I can hear her ragged breaths stop
the not so silent room
as we cried and cat woman found her **** as noise in the background.
Now the wrinkles etched in her face
like memories etched in my mind
are just that...memories.
Now she is a memory.
Forever on my mind
Forever in my heart.
R.I.P Grandma
I love you
It has been a year three months and nine days since my Grandma Sherry died  I still miss her and I sometimes just have bad days and miss her dearly. Rest in Paradise Grandma I love you.
Kam Jul 2018
Clothes have outgrown me many times over,
but this sadness never does.
One size.
fits all.
There should have been an obituary for cancer,  not you.
Wishing these slits within my skin could have been
replaced by a reality check from you, “You chose to exist.”

My name causes a sigh to escape from lips,
that do not feel like they belong to me,
the girl,
whose words always had to be special.

The schematics of hospitals like a birthmark in my brain,
born into sadness, a gut feeling as a child.
Never trusting time
due to what it delivers.

Death, being the only thing I desired.
But you, 
who I love,
endlessly-
robbed by it.
Whose ebb for life glowed so feverishly.
Stopped comparing depression to lace,
restricted the belief that suicide is poetic,
seeing things as they were.
More often than not, applauded for feeling emotions deeply.
Every second that dies, the shift of my heart quakes.

This world is not tender.

II. Sad.
I have known the flowers I wanted at my own premature funeral,
knowing how many bouquets honored you that day.

split open my veins like a dimension
reminiscent of days where I anticipated deathbeds.


My family wondered,
can we make it through another day?
Death scares me for what it has taken,
yet, I’m not afraid to die-
it’s all I deserve.
So I await the day pain erupts
from my throat,
acknowledging the days a soul
lived inside of my body-
footprints that walked,
belonging to me.

But I learned so well.
How to suffer with a smile,
dreading the beating of my heart
how unfair—
I don’t want to take these deep breaths
You deserved,while I masquerade as a member of the undead
Never outgrowing the desire to rot with the phantoms residing under my bed.


III. Jokes played by the universe.
punchlines delivered,
how could anyone to stand to be in the same room as myself?
How could anyone look over skyscrapers and sunsets,
and not be infatuated with concrete consuming them?
How I shared a sigh of relief during the thought-
of knowing people would thrive without me,
or the power of a belly laugh,
resembling a laugh track audience
drowning out 3 AM suicidal thoughts.
I wrote this in pink gel pen, maybe, that’s another joke.
You're watching, judging, and assuming
You don't understand why I do what I do. 
Why I obsess over little things.
So stop trying to
The world is my oyster
But without the beautiful pearl
Just a plain old shell, in a plain old world

It's a shame you'll never know the brilliance
All you're capable to understand is the madness.
Insane, sane
Heart, or brain
Ferocious , tame
Take two breaths and stop breathing all together.
Turn your self to useless energy, forever.

Welcome to mind of the mad.
The queen of the asylum
A dapper old castle in the brain of a girl.
Who is tortured yet pampered in her own little world.
Scurry hurry
Shaking hands shaped by worry
tie the knot of plastic
A bubble home for the hard green cup
where brown and white
mixed lay married.

Wash rush
Dainty legs in dark blue denim
hasn't time to be romantic
A worn out sister played by hope
shuts the door panting.

  It clings to a robust tree
  head hidden under rosy pink    
  protective shield
  edged in yellow

  The fireflies

  
Sticky webs of empty lies packaged in boxes of deception by the wizard that doesn't work
sit dead on the small bedside table
like the results they provide.

Boxes and boxes of cozy containers
and cards of capsules
47 I counted them
current and extras
They choke my sight
then I am groped by the smooth blue robes worn by the youthful shepherd
posing aside a grey rock looking yonder
into the distance as insta-natural as possible in a pastel painted picture framed in wood against the wall.
  
  Unstable molecules in tiny airtubes,  
  many, breakdown and explode
  like little landmines
  A bio-luminescent lit ***** assaults a  
  dense night flashing brilliant
  to find a mate
  Six strong neon-green throbbing blinks
  Six slow seconds of unimaginable
  wordless dreamless dark.

  are bright.

  
I turn my head
The whole unsettling mass of reality
is torn apart into vibrant colorful morsels,
then reassembled
as my eyes  
settle
on

Her

"Oh God, if you're here, heal her now
and you'll have me. Show me what those confident tongues so eagerly confess.
Please!"

NOTHING
Another sticky empty square
covered in thick black-strap molasses
slapped to the face of the fool
who likes sweet things.

BUT

What happened to the omni-this, omni-that CEO of God enterprises?
"Go on Death" is what that means
"Go on Death do your job" is what it does

"It's your time.
It's to test your faith.
Gods plan."
All slogans for the man
who believes and dies.
  Culture creates the fool
  Hope keeps the fool
  Belief kills the fool
Thanks for doing what all those boxes
and all the pictures
on all the walls of the world do

FOOL

Her face,
a gaunt kind of skin-to-bone sight
a bad flavor
like a meal with no taste

Her mouth,
crack-lipped, framed by dry
delivers deadly blows to a heaving chest
that says; "Give me air"
yet lungs say no

Anguish,
is ****** from the pit of my cold stomach
then up through the spirit of a warm heart
I plaster the feeling in the shape of water.
My eyes puddle

I weep

It sticks

Love,

Falls

Fluttering as a twinkle
through soft beams of sunlight,
the drop glistens
plops
then dies
on the pink and blue checkered blanket.

All I have to offer are busky palms
to soothe this battered body
before you are torn apart by what
puts things like us together.

I swallow her frame

Her calf - bone

Squeeze and move

Her thigh,
my hand wraps completely
pinching a sausage sized piece of muscle
not big enough to walk
between plump thumb
and meaty middle

Squeeze and move

Her hip bone is angular
It fits flush in my hand
like the hard front peak of a cricket cap
when held above the grid

Squeeze and move

My chunky tentacles massage over
wire-thin barely blue throbless veins
that decorate her meatless paws
and twig-like fingers.

Squeeze and move
  
  It's after midnight
  Thick curds of desperation push
  again, through a splendid backside
  a special toosh
  slogging a dancing night-fever
  to beat the two-to-four,
  a beam as bright as a green day
  cuts through the black pitch of night

  

I hold her hand
A thin filling between two slices of mine
I look at her eyes and turn away

Have you ever been pulled from the center of  your heart, ripped head first through the narrow crack of your own chest, tossed aside like a skin-sheet onto a concrete glass-covered floor then squashed beneath the majesty of a billion dancing floor-clapping feet attached to a shapeless void shapeshifting as slideshows  between all things gone, here, and still to come, stopping on the body of a small blue boy that sings in ghostly echo;
"Don't turn away from this.
Look till you see me through the eyes of another because this too
will happen to you
Clap clap clap clap!
I'm coming for you.

Trapped in a square tunnel made of brick, walls wide enough for one bus no brakes to speed through, no escape,
I accept what will squash me
I Face it
I Stand before it

I stare at her eyes staring back at me
A deep dagger stare
Two parts steel
meshed
until there is only steel
It melts

I simmer the room in soft whisper;
"It's okay. It's okay. It's okay."
I hold her hand,
patting the top as I warm the bottom
I smile for her, at me
I smile back, as me
  
  A skillful mimic
  Here I come
  I have light and breath
  I see yours
  I come at night
  Not for genes or ***
  I hunt and gut
  Hawking down I come as death

  
The gaps between her labored breaths become bigger and for a second I drift at the sight reappearing on the sandy dunes of an empty dessert space pushed by a dying wind I can barely feel.

A sharp salty tang toils the tip of my tongue and brings me back to her.

Her eyes

They have changed

Open

But

Soul

   less

     Soulless

     Desolate

   Like

That dessert

And that place where


*The Fireflies Lose their Light
We greet Selene,
As we walk, you and me,
Alone together under the light,
And I bid you,
A solemn
Slow
Goodnight.

No breath,
In my nose,
Breaths,
Held as one,
Anticipation of tender union,
None.

I greet you, full of misery,
For Apollo's first greeting was only to me,
Well, I know he greeted you too
But in total, of greetings, there were two

You aren't mine,
Nor am I thine,
And until that time,
tho first the sun may stop its shine,
I will always treasure,
Our bitter-sweet nights together,

Of no breaths,
In my nose,
Breaths,
Held as one,
As I wait,
To have Apollo's greetings to us be one.
Celeste DiLullo Sep 2012
5 minutes.
I sit on the water. The water’s surface is calm and quiet.
While the strokes continue, I look at the person sitting in front of me.
I can only see their back, but I’ve become used to it.

4 minutes.
The coxswain is calling starts.
There’s only a few minutes left, but I cannot keep time.
Everything’s happening so fast.

3 minutes.
The judges call for the boats to line up.
Gracefully, we glide across the water.
Smooth and kept.
Our balance leans the boat port-side, but it is soon restored thorough the echoing voice of our coxswain.

2 minutes.
We’re in our lane. I now take in the presence of the other boats.
They look fierce and prepared, then I look back into our boat.
We need to stand just as strong.
We are strong, if not stronger.
I remember that, because there’s no backing down.
I will not show fear.

1 minute.
Coxswain tells us to sit at three-quarters slide.
The point is adjusted and voices become silent.
I am reminded of every day I worked at practice.
Down to the last hour.
Down to the last minute.
My concentration becomes keener.
I take my final reassuring breaths.
I am fearless.
I am strong.
I am a rower.

0 minutes.
“All boats, ready.”
I dip my oar in a bit deeper. The silence is almost frightening.
My nerves are on a thin thread.
I breathe deeply. There’s no turning back.
“Go!”
“Three-quarters, half, three-quarters, full, full.”
“Power 10! Let’s do this! That’s 10! 9!”
Only three sounds can be heard.
The placement and swing of our blades against the boat.
The coxswain’s encouragement.
My ragged breaths.

I don’t dare look away.
“Keep the pressure, girls! We can beat Oakland! They’re a boat-length ahead! Bring me up to their 8 seat!”
I disregard the alarms going off in my body.
I exert all of my energy. I’m feeling lighter.
“We’re gaining on them! Get me to their 7 seat!”
Time is nothing to me.
I cannot think, only do.
My sole thought is my technique.

“Ladies, we’re walking them! Bring me to their 3 seat!”
I don’t doubt my coxswain’s words, but I am tempted to look to the side.
Our boat leans starboard for a stroke, but jolts back in balance with the next stroke.
My body begs for a rest, even a let-up.
But that’s exactly what the other teams want.
A chance.
A single chance to dominate us.
But I won’t give in.
Not now, not ever.
“We are even with Oakland! We’re in the last 500, girls! Don’t let them catch up!”

The last 500…?
But we have gone so far.
I won’t give up!
“Ladies, power 10 in 2! That’s 1! 2! That’s 10! 9!”
This is the last chance…to show them everything.
My will.
My strength.
My resolution.
The time is now!

Suddenly, added adrenaline runs through my body.
My breaths become more ragged and I feel a bit high.
I don’t let up.
The horn goes off, signaling our finish.
I lose the will to move.
Our coxswain tells us to paddle, but relearning how to breathe seemed more important to me.
Regardless of the silent screams of pain in my body, I obey my coxswain’s order.
We wane off after a while and once all boats cross the finish, we congratulate the other clubs.
I’m becoming tired; my body is crying, but we’ve succeeded.

Everyone worked hard.
We shared everything.
Endurance.
Hardship.
Strength.
Courage.
Friendship.
C­onfidence.
And there’s only one way to show how strong we really are.

We row.
And that’s all there is to it.
Coxswain: The boss of a row boat
Starts: A warm-up exercise for rowers to begin a race correctly

I wrote this poem when I was in the Los Gatos Rowing Club. This is poem was my farewell speech as I graduated.

— The End —