respiration

The thing is- a really awful thing
happened, but listening to the way
air moves through your lungs as I
lay on your chest makes everything
still for a moment.
I would rather listen to the blood move through your veins
than do most things.
My time is yours even when it’s not.
-maybe that’s tragedy; I don’t know.
Maybe it’s tragedy to think that I
don’t want to think about what happened;
but I do want to remember your lips.
And the way they felt on mine
before they were bruised.