Breath rolls in ragged tides

Breath rolls in ragged tides,

a slow wave against the quiet night.

Each inhale a shuddered lift,

each exhale a small surrender.

The dark fills with the sound of lungs,

a rough rhythm under skin and bone.

I lie awake, counting the swell,

the rise and fall that won’t settle.

It pulls me deeper into myself,

a tide that never breaks,

a sound too raw to quiet,

too close to call peace.