But soon
would be too small
for us
to move
or grow
we’ll suffocate
with our own breaths.

I remember your smile
10 years ago–we were so young.
What time has done
lines–deep, and profound
like fresh wounds, every time
or bark of an old tree.
traces on our foreheads, carvings of emotions or memories?
tears dehydrated our souls– made our faces warped and dry
our hands too
that often clenched.

made our bodies heavy
we drag our feet now
to go places–
but we could no longer walk
on our own.
You’re always at my shoulders
waiting for a mistake or two
then you’ll breath out on me all your blames
thick smoke of gray, brushes my faces
burns my eyes.
I have forgotten how to cry.

You breath in
and again– on your own.
I exhaled.
My hair turned gray
with all the smoke and the many nights.
I have managed to live in fear
and to sleep guarded– or to not even sleep.
We fight for nothing. As nothing we have become.

The children. If it wasn’t for the children
who sleeps on the other room.
And here we are.
This was the room where summer love rose.
This would be the same room where the sun would set
on us– on you
You never learned how to let go.
You drown yourself with alcohol
You smother yourself with nicotine
As you strangle me with your regrets.
But it was all you–
all because of you.

I waited.
For so long I have let go
but would you?
You breath in
and again. Heavy and wounding.
(like your words)
For the last time.
I exhaled with you.
You were so young.