Barely breathing


March 20, 2012


Melting snow dribbles down the tree trunks, dripping off still stiff branches winter has yet to release, wet oozing down the ribs in the bark like sweat, soft, glistening, still white from the eruption after the rigidity of ice.

This is supposed to be spring, and perhaps there is a sense of softness in this moody world, a glimmer of hope in this slithering aftermath as steam rises into the air I breathe, beams of sunlight painting my face, making me blush, life’s gentler side caressing me and my life, until me and my world shiver and melt, rivulet of something moist flowing inside me, overflowing some internal banks until I am overwhelmed and can barely breathe for drowning.

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