old photos

when you took away my breathing,
and i sat there gasping,
like a collapsed engine,
my jugular felt like a little spider climbing inside my throat

when i learned to let go,
i ran all the way to the end of my notebooks,
scribbling words and pictures that would tell any sort of story,
like the one about the boy without breath,
holding his cheeks with a wish,
and blowing those hopes to the breeze