There is more than simple oxygen
There is every syllable I never divulged,
every word that shimmered along my tongue
but never permeated my teeth.
In a breath, coexists
and every drop of Euphoria my lungs could grasp,
pivoting and coiling
in the back of my throat,
dreaming to be uttered, released
but reluctant to go.
I linger there in a half breath
just an instant too long;
the words expire and the silence floods.
In my oxygen I emit my truths:
my promises and observations,
ghosts of sentences never articulated.
And I return to a
pain glistening in my eyes.
I have never spoken