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


I am a bug
trapped in your glass lung:

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

Every breath
(salted-wounded-lessons)
slowly kills the air
(prairie-fairy-breeze)
and hugs away my life.

But then
you exhale:

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

And I
(that-special-little-girl)
pound my fists against nothing,
(ginger-tainted-serendipity)
the absence of you.


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...^_^