To say that he has enclasped my lungs in
the firm hold of his fevered gaze,
would be an understatement.
You see, with every flutter of his eyes shut,
I reach the surface of stormy waters
and feebly gasp for all the air I can collect,
before he oscillates his golden orbs open
and submerges me into the deep set ocean
that I had so willingly chosen to drown in,
from the first moment the salty water danced around my skin.
I suffocate here.
I drown here.
This is where I die a million deaths with every whirlpool of kisses
he plants on my nose and mouth and ears and neck.
This is where I learn to stop breathing and learn to exist
with every pulse that runs through his tired heart and
reaches my fingertips and runs through my nerves.
This is where I don’t want to be saved.
Do not resuscitate.
Mary Great
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/do-not-resuscitate-3/
