The, the first breath

I don’t know when
it began.
Maybe when I took the,
the first breath,
before I dived into still, cool water.
I wasn’t anyone’s
I wasn’t even my own.
It was cold, and precious,
Sweet, and I knew then,
Why little girls in stories,
never wanted to turn
back from their fairytale
lands.

The mountains made my ribs,
feel tight,
My lungs, unsure of the air they held,
In the cold air,
I took a breath,
Decided then, there,
That the pain was worth it.
It wasn’t a mountain, really,
just a temple with lots of steps,
red gates,
strange stone foxes decorating
the place with mouths,
that seemed to want to eat me up.

I don’t know when it began,
This stillness when I move into
something new,
It’s a love without a name,
Not something I could claim,
With a ring.
Gold has no power between
moments of breath,
wondering where my next step –

will take me?

It’s a love affair like air,

Tasteless, like the first breath,
the first breath,
I took there.

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