Inspired by those ex-smokers who have the tube through their necks. Rather frightening, but who am I to argue with inspiration?

The Glass Lung

I am a bug
trapped in your glass lung:

Every inhalation
threatens to infiltrate
(stealthy-steady-not ready)
my carefully constructed existence.

Every breath
slowly kills the air
and hugs away my life.

But then
you exhale:

The glass breaks
(splinters-of-never never land)
in slow, gasping moments
that break me as well.

And I
pound my fists against nothing,
the absence of you.