The bite of the cold
(Outside)
Is nothing compared to this
(your) Suffocating warmth
(I can’t stand it)

One Day
We'll never speak again
it's going to happen
boyfriends,
girlfriends,
husbands,
wives,
and death will not be the culprit.
It's going to be
just like the trees fighting
for sunlight in the forest,
we are both
going to suffocate
till one day
you or I
cannot live without breathing
and we'll fall away
rotten hollows--
once being the beauty
that made us even
thirst for sunlight.
We'll be unrecognizable
stumps not lovers
and watching the other tumble
will be like Fall coming early
because our leaves
will wilt to the wind.
The Sun will shine through though,
one day in the future
and on the horizon
we'll see each other
swaying in the wind
and we'll  be as perfect
as the day we first saw one another
that's when we'll realize
it was really us
that almost
killed each other.

and so, he said to me, “Are you sure this is what you want? Are you sure you want me? Because once I fall in love, there is no turning back. I love hard, and I will be obsessed with you I will smother you”.

    

                                                                                                  please do not smother me; 
                 

                              smothering implies force. 
                        It implies suppression,
                   maybe a hint of aggression, 
              with a dab of oppression 
          and a handful of asphyxiation.
      In which one kills another,
   by with the stifling of breath and emotion.
It is the death of something.

       
          
               Instead engulf me in your love;
          let me be immersed in it.
cradle me.
coddle me. 
shelter me.
                
                         let me breathe,
          
                             
                 so that I can appreciate it
                       and feel it all around me;
                that makes it so much better.
      ever so soft.
      ever so loving. 
      ever so gentle. 

                

           I understand why you want to smother,
I do.
                                  Why you want to cover parts of me
                              that you feel are light-filled.
                          Watering me with muddled emotions and actions
                     that you feel are quite harmless, but understand;
                like flowers overwatered,
             and placed in the shade
        death will become me.
         I too,
    struggle with the feeling to
repress and restrain
                                           
                                         I do 
      
                         

        
                         , but you’re somebody too
                     you’re important.
                Your love is a torrent;
        the best thing you can give along with,  
your time. 
   It’s valuable, 
so you shouldn’t give if it is unwanted 

                          


                                     even to me;
   especially to me
                      

        
                     or at least don’t make it a habit with anyone 
                 you see 
           because you are too precious 
      and too valuable 
   you say I am special,
but you too, are important 
                 

                , but thank you 

                                
         I do,
                           appreciate the gesture and the thought; 
                     I do.
                  I want your love but not like that.
               I really do,
           just not that way.
       Just not by suffocation. 
 I want to be engulfed in it…

                    
there’s a difference,
        I do not want to die… I do not want to suffocate.

She comes to class and goes
“There’s bees in my Head”
Then pulls out
Another mug
Of coffee
Which happens
To be the cause

Another comes
Face on the verge of tears
“He did it again!”
We all know who
“He” is
Then proceeds to
Accept hugs
While giving
An in depth narration

Another comes in
“I’m, just, dying”
She proceeds to get
More hugs
While another friend
Calls her “hot”
And she insists she’s not

The fourth comes in
She’s been sacrificing
Her free time
To attend this class
And her sad tired smile
Says it all
She gets hugs too

And here I am
In the middle
Suffocated
...
Am I emotionally immature?
Am I too much of a cynic?
Is it me, or is it them?
Am I just different?
Or too self conscious?
...
Why do they have so many problems?
...
Then class starts
And I turn to our model,
A plastic skeleton dubbed
-Bony Bonez

And lose myself
In the charcoal

I can’t breath.
Your holding a pillow over my face,
and call it love.
I am not quite sure when you and me
became we, and us and ours.
You talk about forever
and I listen, halfheartedly.
While watching your lips move,
I plan ways of escaping.
You were too much
and yet, still not enough.
After awhile I questioned
why I was holding on so tight.
I held on until my fingers ached
and calluses formed,
and it no longer felt right.
I was choking on the silence
of all the words I wasn’t saying.
Suffocating.
Slowly my heart became a tomb
and you, the mourner.
I am truly and deeply sorry for your loss.

The words you spoke
Awakened the slowly withering
Your thoughts were gold
Replacing the cracks
The crevices
The fissures
That was becoming
Of the once smooth surface of my sanity
When your fire warmed but didn’t harm
I longed and searched for ways to stoke it
Already feeling chilled
At the slightest distance from your flame
I didn’t mind suffocating
But you were air
And I realized I love breathing.

I have locked myself inside of my car in the middle of the school parking lot.
I can still hear the ringing of the bell that caused us to scatter out of the school like ants escaping from a disrupted colony ringing in my ears. I am no longer a fire ant, but a caged animal, and I’m not sure who the metal barrier around me is supposed to be protecting. I still don’t feel safe.
I am thinking about how the glass at the zoos muffles the sounds of the animals, and how you might miss their cries unless you stopped walking and got right next to the glass. I don’t want to be seen, but, at the same time, I am hoping and waiting for people to stop walking past me, stand next to my car, and listen.
I am laying down in my back seat like a wounded animal, and my screams are being muffled by me burying my face into the seat. I no longer feel like a caged animal, but a fish inside of a tank. I don’t know how long I have been crying, but I feel like I am drowning. You can’t hear noises in the water unless you are below the surface yourself. I feel like I am the exhibit in the aquarium that everyone ignores because whatever’s in the water is hiding under a rock.
My head feels as though it will explode, I can’t breathe, everything is blurry, my chest hurts, I can’t stop crying, and I have convinced myself that I am dying. When my cousin was three, he would have died if my dad had not performed cpr on his blue, limp little body after he was pulled out of the pool. Now, he is eleven, and he knows how to swim, but I don’t have the heart to tell him that you don’t need water to drown.
Now, I am wishing that I had been the one that drowned that day.
I am sitting in a fish tank, I have no gills and I can not breathe.
My screams are silent, nobody can hear me, and I am kicking the inside of the car to try and make some noise, but everyone has gone home by now.
I am able to breathe again and I have grown a pair of lungs.
I am sitting in a zoo after closing hours, and all I can do is practice my roar and try to be heard again in the morning.