by Sarah Kiepper
My breath hitches
when I remember how we slept
our skin stuck, my back to your front
long legs tangled around me like a cricket
I could never catch my breath
our no clothes in the bedroom rule
made us late for my best friend’s wedding
we showered together every night
but fought all damn day
I loved you so much then
it still hurts now more than a decade later
you smothered me with gifts, work visits, phone calls
until I couldn’t breathe
I left you—the same way my mother left my father
the same way his first wife left him before that—cowardly and deceitful, but it was the only wayto keep breathing