1. It was somewhere in between the pauses of every inhale and every exhale. Somewhere in between the hesitation I found the last chapter peeking. They warn you to never open to the last page but I've never learnt how to contain my curiosity.

2. It was somewhere behind the lines on your forehead. Drawn together, frowning, glaring at a letter you could never write. You could never figure out how to put an end.

3. And when I asked her why she never punctuated her poetry with dots and commas she told me she was afraid of endings afraid of breathing out afraid of letting go and so now she's breathless and perhaps she slipped from holding on so tight and now my poetry is laden with futile if onlys and breathless sentences

4. Theres something endlessly long about the word breathless. I tell her it's my favorite word because it sounds passionate, fervent, like a fire ripping through the ground. Like an exhale. Like an ending.

5. Perhaps I spent too much time looking at the ending that I haven't realized what had happened during.

6. Guilt is embedded under my skin and inside my bones and the words I'm sorry are rising up they get caught in my throat stuck between my teeth but they never make their way through my tongue. Never made their way to you.

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So I wrote this in the spur of the moment I promise y'all I'll put up a better one soon.

But omg you guys are incredible I've reached 15K and #16 in poetry I love you all so muchh