You began as a simple sentence.
A whisper on my parted lips,
A groan on my pallid chest,
An inconvenience to be discarded,
A silk secret, shrouded by the night.
You are now a box of chess.
A half woven prayer, perhaps a curse.
A leather bound book, an obscene diary.
A ticket to heaven, a verse in hell.
Prescribed Oxygen, for a failing heart.
How did We get here?
 🦋