Hold your breath long enough and you collapse
but before that,
before the burning peels your lungs,
the laying of hands
the unforgivable touch
by the same last name
before the spasms gut your ribs,
the whimpers, the humbling no’s
pushed, folded, smothered
until they’re swallowed
before you lose the urgent need to breath
before the shallow water blackout
you are seven and you begin to count
19,000 breathes a day
I read that the opposite of holding your breath
isn’t inhaling, it’s letting go
Writing 