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Her oxygen
The water
(dark, and tarnished)
welcomes the cold, soft moonlight,
and his hands find yours:
I breathe
(out of fear),
and watch my hands,
pour the cold sweat; jealousy.
where have your eyes gone?
That smile I longed for,
indefinitely yours.
and what of our kiss? our moment?
our shared silence?
I look up.
Breathe...
Smile, and breathe.
Always breathe.
Find another reason.
She is his oxygen now.
To her,
I have already burned.
- Alejandro Bonfil
