Breathing

Oh how I envy the air that surrounds you, the air that you breathe. With each passing moment, you inhale, exhale, then inhale, inviting it in to swirl around inside, caressing you with its delicate life-giving touch. It enters freely, not knowing you at all, but will know you intimately before leaving, forever changed by you.

In a brief expanse of time, those lingering breaths touch your heart in ways that I can only wish to know. As they circulate around inside, reaching out and touring the intricate pathways to your soul, I can’t help but wonder if it understands what it was, what it is, and what it will be.

The envy I feel is not unlike the silent pangs of guilt that racks us all. It’s a dull piercing ache, coupled with an untouchable whisk of longing to be with the one we want, but each is unaware of the other. Because of that, I’m all at once jealous, and sad, of the next breath you take, for I long to be that next breath, wanting to forever be changed by you.