running/ sneakers/ emotion / lungs / yoga

     Holding my breath, inhaling deeply, in an emphatic need to save myself. Lungs swell, and then deflate, in an abandoning need to let all fall away from inside of me. In sinful step, I have turned breathing into fine art, feeling the vibration of pulse inside my chest, lapsing through my body in quiet waves of emotion.

Blasting chatter from my mind, as my flesh tosses back a salty mist. In a darkened animated constellation patterns swirl around my feet as toes probe my sneakers wetness, limbs are loose; body is folding into an arrow of salacious pleasure.
             What if I fail ? What if I fall just one step short of expectation?