Short of Breath
And this love,
which for once didn't seem to burn
on the fuel of the not quite unrequited,
this is the love I sang of:
the star crossed,
tangled knot twist of fate
the prayer she'd never let go
wave-borne to crash
against the rocky shore
where it now lies
beached and gasping,
the tide of possibility and desire
rushing back to sea
so constantly just out of reach,
a storm that left behind
only the frantic need to relearn how to breathe
this essence of life that we call air,
this necessity which, in the short, exquisite
hourglass of this love,
was replaced by something
more intoxicating, entrancing, encompassing,
and more precious than oxygen.
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