Breathing and Arousal

 There’s a certain kind of breathing

I have when I’m sleeping or at rest.

It’s deep and complete,

From soul to air.

I lay naked and moulded to the mattress,

The cool air of the open window touching me.

There’s a kind of breathing I do when I’m on my bike

It feeds my rushing blood, chases my speed,

Yet catches the rhythm of my movement,

The machinations of my body

Racing through the air I pass through.

There is a kind of breath I breathe

When I’m rolling over the force of an orgasm

Holding back its imminence.

It’s even and controlled, Deep and cleansing,

Soul to air, core to you.

When I allow the rush to take over,

I scream out, rend the air,

Force it out and spend myself

Then fall and lay at your side

And the breathing is the same, completely.