Breaths caught
in the endless limbo
of not knowing.
Of a danger we see only by
the path it leaves
behind.
Each inhale gambled.
Each exhale a potential
unknown
treason.
In days marked only
by the realization
of just how long
it's been.

Breaths stolen
by knees held over necks
to muffle the obvious cry,
and knives quickly ending
a lifetime
of ins and outs,
and a tangled web not resolute
or maybe powerful
enough
to see these breaths were
worth protecting.

Breaths taken
under orange skies,
each one laced with the ash
of loss
too hot
too large
too inevitable
to be held.
With lungs that bear the memory
and that see the flames licking,
already,
on the horizon.

Breaths you hold
for the needle's sting
and then
forget the holding.
Revel in the silence left
behind
when you no longer have to count
your every
inhale,
exhale.

And think of those who never had
the chance.