What I were to you, darling,
Was your indulgence in sex
On lazy Sunday mornings,
Breathing heavily under the sheets, head to head.

I was the coffee break you craved for in the middle
Of a breathless Monday
But working is no playing second-fiddle
That you devote nothing to get paid.

With your gentle breath - inhaling, exhaling -
Yet on the cake, the flickering candle lights
Were dimming, dimming with each blessing.
To keep the flame burning was beyond your might.

You learned to hold your breath then, for long - long minutes that were countless.
You'd submerge into water and stay perfectly still -
Lying stiff in the bathtub so numb and motionless.
I was afraid, my love, for your breath I could no longer feel.

Today I held my breath and signed the papers as if coming to my death.
I was struck: how different from, yet familiar it was with That Day
When you said "I do," and had taken my breath
Away.