#409 With my dying breath

I am not scared of death
because it’s the unknown
I do not fear it because
of my unresolved business.
I do not shiver in front of it
because I am not ready for it.

I run from it because of you.
I come back to you every time
Cloudy or sunny skies
I know where my mind
goes to rest and refuses to leave at dawn

When I am happy with one of the many ‘hims’
I still compare even the way he breathes
to the steady, deep inhales I counted
while my head still had a home on your chest

So, I am scared of death
because what if with my dying breath
my lips whisper only your name
and the echoes of it haunt me in my grave?

You can get your copy of my first novel on Amazon: Little Rebellion
Poetry Books: Identity CrisisRehab

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