I can still

hear

your breathing

 like

an echo

of some bygone

sigh.

It fills the

air,

slowly strangling

us both.

I once

thought that

each

breath was

taken

only for

me.

No,

the cruel truth will

always prevail.

I used to

think that

love

was the warmth

in your

eyes, the kind

word

on your

lips.

Love, though,

from you

was a

lie.

I can still

hear

your breathing,

 but now

I am waiting

for when

it

stops.