Hold Your Breath

When you walked away,
I thought it would be for a minute.

But when I thought about it,
I did not fully comprehend
what a minute was
not to mention
what a minute could truly be.

It’s been said
that a lot can happen in a minute.

So much changes.
You learn patience.
And you value virtue itself.

The gorge that widens
between the lines
of my hand and yours.

In experiencing this minute,
I’ve learned to miss you
like a flood
that’s forgot how to swallow
but instead clicks its teeth
and chokes on its breath.

Regardless how safe,
I may not physically shake or shiver.
But on the inside
I miss you.

I do not reference the minutes as years,
for one minute cannot be bottled
and contained like that.

An entire lifetime
can be lived in that instant.

When I see you,
I will not rush toward you,
nor will I smile.

The cracked skin
of my hands and legs will move.
The widened gorge between us
will rattle

and drag closer,
and closer,
until

I can breathe.