For her to be mine would fill my lungs, but suffocating is my reality.

The sweet breath of her flaming hair floats past unaware I am choked.

The beauty of her song gives oxygen that I am forbidden to take.

Her childish gait but elegant flare, the silky skin, the purest air.

I cannot keep poisoning my own lungs with stained mist.

There is no resuscitation for this suffocation.