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pounding breath, painful
is all that truly remains of you--
these photographs and poems only serve to
make a pretty border around your life
which warps the truth of things

I don't speak, don't breathe, at the service
for if I do, I find myself panting,
overcome with the memory of running until my muscles burned
and my bare feet felt close to breaking
knowing you were faster, legs longer
but the only thing you'd left me
was to try

and in the end, it was all I needed;
legs longer, limbs stronger
only made you fall that much harder
one misstep that cost your life
and with a ragged breath
returned mine.

--
Title is prompt. This went a kind of creepy direction I hadn't exactly intended. Maybe my NaPoWriMo this year will follow that same path. If so, that's fine; I like creepy. :)