Beauty Is In the Breathing

crumpled in my bed.
discarded,
like a candy wrapper or used condom.
Never mind the chipped nail polish
damp hair
old jeans.
beauty is in the breathing.
shallow
in and out.
chest rising, 
falling.
alive and sad.
call me a stack of pancakes.
it doesnt make me a stack of pancakes.
tell me i should be happy.
it doesnt mean a thing.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2006

Poem

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