Breathe…
Every inhale claws at my chest,
like air has turned to stone.
Breathe…
The painkillers dull the edges
but leave me heavy,
fighting for one more sip of life
that tastes more like exhaustion than survival.
Breathe…
I hear them—
their voices cracking,
their words spilling out like prayers
that I am too tired to catch.
I want to tell them I love them.
I want to tell them I hear every word.
But all my body knows how to do now is breathe.
Breathe…
They are begging,
pleading with hands and hearts
to keep me here,
to fight for one more moment I can’t give.
How do I tell them
my bones ache with finality?
That I am so weary
even breathing feels like surrender?
Breathe…
One last time.
Not because I want to,
but because I can’t stop—
not yet.
But soon.
Soon I will stop.
And when I do,
it will not be giving up.
It will be letting go.
