I lean, breathless, into another’s arms.
I am not comforted.
Knowing I should feel loved as I’m wrapped in waiting arms carves desperation more deeply into me.
My life ebbs away, sailing from the shifting shore of my body like a piece of driftwood floating out to sea.
I’m supposed to be grateful, appreciating time, when each moment my body weakens. Each second strips me of a healthy joint, robs me of another heartbeat.
I cannot be any of the things they want me to be. I cling to self-pity when all I want to do is let go.
July 15 Prompt: Life (In 99 words – no more, no less – write a story about a breathless moment. Write about life.)