Breath

 I can´t but panic when holding breath,
yet you come to mind,
always,
the ending seconds are a game to sleep,
and
a mad rush passes my wanting dreams, I feel life and God and the small
things like my first pair of trainers, I bought not my mum,
but always you,
I always see you.

For my asthma or a hicup or to regulate myself, or just because,
I pull the face and inhale, I hate holding my breath, also I cannot swim well,
maybe I digress,
but when it starts,
and I pinch my nose,
I automatically close my eyes,
and I know everyone does the same,

I sleep for seconds in a state of pure productivity,
and I awake to find,
me in a mirror
with red and tears,
and I have to shake the thought of you again,
but now in my every day.