Inhale. Exhale.

A soft warm hug feels like a strangle.

A glancing smile,
A beautiful song,
A funny joke,

A single breath is now a chore.

And then it's on to the next.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Empty air.

Just a necessity to keep from dying.

Feels

I'll never feel my body more than when I'm dancing.
It's a trust I have.
A pact I make with myself.
From the crown of my head,
through my neck,
along my shoulders,
down my stomach,
around my hips,
between my thighs,
to the center of my knees,
and then come my ankles and feet and toes.
A bond.
An agreement.
To move in complete harmony,
yet in total chaos.
To take deliberate steps,
contained in abstraction.
To believe,
without any hesitation,
that I will not fail.
But when I do,
because I will,
I'll recover.
And it will be beautiful,
and wrong.
So wrong,
it will become right.

Tu t'appelles comment?

I'm not sure of your name or where you are
but I think of you often.
I can't help but believe that the thought of me
flashes across your mind, too.
Maybe you're tall.
Maybe you like your coffee black.
Maybe you'll challenge me
and show me the beauty in things I'd never notice.
I'll meet you, if I haven't already,
at an inconvenient time.
But we will know.
It will wash over us
like a soft, warm wind on a summer night,
like the taste of our favorite flavor,
like the sweet reminder of a memory.
As if we're each living it all over again.
Except it'll be different.
We will be different..
We will change one another.
Not for better or for worse.
Just for.
I'm not sure I know your name,
but I will find you.
I promise.