By Devin Taylor

 

when her last breath arrives

and her lungs collapse 

will I be ok?

 

will the world set a blaze 

as I mourn the decay of her attention?

 

when her last breath arrives 

will acid rain from the skies

beginning the demise of her ecosystem?

 

or will I wither and wilt 

on the tear soaked quilt, 

hand sewn by her 

once warm palms?

 

would my world be found

lying soberly sound

not a pulse nor a pound

Just her exhale?

 

 

but if her breath never came, 

upon my lifeless domain

would I be forced to remain among this chaos?

 

 with her breath came peace,

but it slipped through her teeth,

stained yellow by her sunflower air.

 

 but if her last breath came forth,

standing idle on her porch

quiet rattles in the depths of her lungs,

 

would it knock a few times, 

 up the chimney would it climb-    

to find her soul lying damned on her tongue.