Breathe Again

She's waiting for you to let her breathe again.

     Her life became intermingled with yours by complete accident, but she'd leave it that way of ot meant never leaving this oasis you'd both created.

   Melting-ice glances and woven heartstrings were always promised to her, and so far you'd taken more, much much more, than that; her lungs were useless when you were around, for the alveoli only held CO₂, her synapses had long since lost the ability to transfer from nerve to nerve, and her brain now had growing dark spots.

        Leaving this home, this paradise, always brought more scars than entering; more than she could bring on her own accord. You brought pain in the sweetest form of the feeling and she bathed in the blood, sweat, and tears the followed it.

It was like she was a recovering addict, seeing her addiction in private; sneaking a bump here and there, taking a drag when she could. No one would ever suspect her, no one would ever turn her in. How was she to know, it would be her own addiction that would turn their back against her? How was she to know that everything you told her wouldn't mean anything in three months?

   She just wants to breathe.