Breathing Holes, by Mihir Rastogi

But no, I could never hurt her

She reminds me too much of myself

But then why is she so different?

She moves with a certain grace; indistinguishable

Undefinable, yet somehow familiar

I would like to keep her in my pocket

She’d be warm and safe and dry

But then how will she breathe?

I can cut some breathing holes,

But what if they’re too big?

What if she falls out?

What if I fall out?

-Mihir Rastogi

Featured in Vol. 1 Iss. 5
Featured in Vol. 1 Iss. 5
Facebooktwittergoogle_plusmail