Breathe

On the 30^th of June, in the early hours of the summer’s dawn, I couldn’t breathe.

Surrounded by merriment, the drunken chatter, the flattery of my lover.

The air was clean despite the smoke. Still, I found myself about to choke.

With enough sense to put down the third glass of vodka I rushed to the sofa.

Not enough time to be alone, I moaned and reluctantly clutched at the curve of my neck.

Blinded, my sanity no longer in check, I couldn’t stop the demon forcing its way into my lungs.

My struggle to breathe sung a perishing cry that called the others from the outside.

The lover ran first, followed by my friend and the strangers. Not a stranger situation had I seen.

Until now the demon had kept me to themselves. Pain had to be secret you see. I didn’t deserve to be healthy and clean.

And yet the man I didn’t know and the one I didn’t want to show this side felt inclined to believe otherwise.

They said things I wanted to believe were lies.

They looked me in the eyes.

They waited, until I no longer needed to cry.

I told them everything. I could only cling to the attention. In intermittent speeches I confessed how I’d become the play thing of a demon.

But, the more I cried to them, the presence of the demon felt weaker.

The thoughts that intruded my mind only moments ago felt bleaker.

I spent the rest of the morning speaking to each one in succession. It became a therapy session of family, gender and depression.

It became their mission to make sure I came out of it alive.

It became their mission to make sure that I knew I deserved to be alive.

It became his mission, with a kiss, to let me know that he loved this person who was no longer El and wanted to be Gris.

In a moment I found it funny, learning how easy it is for some things not to be missed.

The second time I heard them all say that name, I felt a layer of shame become dismissed. 

I felt the demon crawl its way back out. It clawed and screamed. I saw it pout as it slunk away, looking back, looking for a crack to come back in. 

But all of the seams had sealed on my skin.

On the 30^th of June as the dawn had shifted to morning, I was delighted to find myself yawning. 

I could finally breathe again.