I read books, write poems, sing songs
I walk, I run, I speak,
Not that these things are insignificant
But I could breathe without them.

I lie, I shame, and I sin,
I curse, I blame, I disown
Though I know these things are wrong
They do not keep me from breathing

Summer’s haze looked right through me
And shivered at my winter cold heart
Asking how it was that I could continue
To inhale its sun rays and still be so iced
Over on the inside
Surprised at my ability to still be pumping blood

I responded and said,
I hurt, I cry, I melt
I fall, I spill, and I love
Though I have deep wounds
It does not keep me from breathing.