Mirage.

how he took my breath away.

And, since I can't breathe in the winter air without inhaling your morning breath, the way it felt against my hair, I am learning how to adjust my lungs to the absence of oxygen. I release frosted whiffs of carbon streaked oxygen from my nipped nose, I am trying to release you from my veins, which have been blue from absorbing you. The city smog is difficult to breathe in, when you belong to a city where the air smells like an old river that has carried an ancient civilization of dismantled dreams and almosts. I miss my city, our city as I try to focus on my respiration which has been causing me trouble, since you refused to take my chapped lips and cold hands in yours to rub them into warmth. Breathing is difficult, yes. But, so is living without the inevitable exercise, we can't do without it. We can't exist without oxygen, but I have to without you. So, I have to subtract you from my daily needs, and learn how to breathe in the air in which you hadn't mingled in my mouth. On days, where I won't be able to breathe, I will learn how to write air, I will learn how to paint it your favorite color, I will paint it like my city burnt, I will paint the air red.