I Am Aging

I am aging.
I fear I will suffocate
by my own
wrinkled hands.
I fear I will suffocate.
I need this velvety fear
today
that I might
bloom
and ripen
into my own
crumpled
tomorrow.
I see and smell and taste
the air that carries me
and I will keep breathing it.
Until I stop.

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(This entry is in response to Nicole at Sitting Still who is hosting a poetry play-along.)