“When you kissed me you breathed air into my lifeless soul.”

He reminds me of the shadow between silences.

I want to separate writing from heartbreak but I don’t know how.

This brown body is not an explosion- it is light and honey.

Your heartbeat is a holy thing.

How do you mourn the loss of someone who was never yours to begin with?

I want to be something to pray for but I don’t know how to be.

And what am I but the smallest of footnotes in the universe’s everlasting memoir?

This country collects too many tongues, until our only language is silence.

I don’t know how to let you out without destroying us both.

Seek refuge in the space between my bones.

Somewhere inside my throat lives your ache.

I like to trace the ghosts of your fingers on the back of my hand. They read- I don’t know how to hold without you.

I pocket grief and it beckons me like a lover.

My silhouette is an ocean, your lips a sailor.

There is a calmness in not knowing.

Every beauty mark, a country to roam. Every stretch mark, a river to cross.

Air you breathe is bad for your lungs so you’ve got to careful and don’t overdue any bad air. Too much pot, too much anything is not good. Your lung is a piece of flesh, a piece of bone. You can injure it.

When you learn to navigate and manage your breath, you can navigate any situation in life

There is not room for Death, Nor atom that his might could render void: Thou – Thou art Being and Breath, And what Thou art may never be destroyed.

In the cold I centre myself and my breathing to transfer all my heat into the centre of my body.

Sometimes when I think how good my book can be, I can hardly breathe.

I have to remind myself to breathe — almost to remind my heart to beat!

Until I feared I would lose it, I never loved to read. One does not love breathing.

Deep breathing changes the chemistry of the body by bringing oxygen into the tissue.