(the air i breathe)

(the air i breathe)

desperate, desolate,
at the threshold of despair
it was guilt that gave me oxygen after
grief stole all the air

breathing became easy
knowing i was the fucking fool
lest i choke on the reality
that life is really just that cruel

but the guilt is limited supply
and as usual i deny
that i have yet to say
another goodbye

because when guilt is ready to leave
and i scream that i’m not ready to grieve
i choose to hate myself that much more
gasp as fresh guilt wafts in through the door

displeased at the taste
sweet, yet artificial
every inhale convincing me
it’s purely beneficial

yet over and over
at this threshold i stand
the scent of grief within arm’s reach
anything but bland

so i hold out my hand
to open the door
and with trembling command
i exhale remorse
and finally greet my grief
accepting its visit will not be brief

familiarity fills my senses
with sugar, spice, and salt
and the bitter taste of truth
that this was not my fault

it was guilt that gave me oxygen after
grief stole all the air
but grief is no thief…
because when it’s grief i breathe – you’re everywhere

when it is grief i breathe
you are my air

@paige.thepoet