If I Count
Even the smallest movement of air can bring down the house of cards
We built from dust and syllables strung together
Three words whispered in the noon bright
Or shouted into the desolate quiet of night
Bring the hands of fate falling to their knees.
If I count the breaths you take before you speak or,
The blinks it takes before the tears stop
I will lose myself in the infinities between truths, and those tucked beneath the house of cards
As it falls around us
While we count on another breath.