Calosha Gomes

My breath matches how I am,
not missing a beat on anybody’s account.
The discomfort is now fading
as the heart is healing.

My breath matches how I am,
nothing to do with how it increases when I see you.
I’m praying I won’t have to, ever again.

You bet I wouldn’t flinch at your sight,
even if I had to.
Nothing compares to me losing my voice
at the thought of losing all hope,
or so I was told, or so I wasn’t.

The gray area is really getting to
my fragile, broken heart.
Scattered across the wet floor,
falling as I pick up
all the fragile, broken pieces.

All these words, just to clear everything,
to reach some type of other side
that doesn’t have me all depressed.