Between Our Lungs

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A shot of vodka might to the trick
Because after tonight, I’ve lost my click
My niche, my passion, and my pride
Kissed away by your heartache tonight
Every time I’m with you, I get dragged down
By your bottomless pit and decadent breath
Always wishing for me to bring you up
Show you the light of day, and make you well
I’m not a doctor, just a writer, just a lover
With too many words and not enough hands
Too much desire, and not enough mouths
To fully satisfy my desire, claim my thrones
And truly be at peace with my living
She’s half-dead, which makes her half alive
But I don’t know how to save her
I don’t know if I can, every single night
She crawls between my lungs, presses down
On my heart, and I let her cry
I let her bleed anywhere she needs
Everywhere, she seems, to be breaking apart
I cannot heal, only mend
I cannot save, only hold on to
She wishes for me to come with her, maybe
I should
Maybe I would be better dying together
Than living alone

4 thoughts on “Between Our Lungs

  1. Full of such emotion and deep pain. A lover that physically, emotionally, etc. hurts your speaker, is not a love that lasts or should. On her part, she is selfish never letting him
    Be when he starts to heal; she’s selfish a leach. On his part, he cannot escape her to think straight, to regain the strength to say no and be himself. I would think he somehow needs to disattach for self-perseveration. I think eventually he’ll hate her, maybe he does? but love, the kind that’s real is more than intense feelings or emotions. It’s care for each other’s well-being as a whole, and a haven, — even if sometimes there’s still hurt.

    Loved your poem very much, made me think a lot. Also, very catchy, and great opening lines.

    Like

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