I open my window to thick heavy air
That feels like cement dust, or ashes, or cotton
It’s clumpy and sticks to the sides of my throat
I’m tired of breathing, and being forgotten
I tighten my jacket, and hug my own ribs
And look through the winter, around, at the faces
These empty reflections tell me a story
I realize I don’t know where my own place is
I tasted, then swallowed, a love unrequited
That burned like a firecracker deep in my throat
With ash in my mouth, and embers in my lungs
I turned for the door without leaving a note
