Loving Tributes

I tried to inhale,

but there was a confining tension

in my chest that

would not leave me  

[shadows of death closed in].

But, from the dark depths,

a stranger appeared,

pressed hands against

chest congested with anxiety

[a shortage of hope].

He resuscitated me

though I was found

in the troughs of

an apparent demise

[self-inflicted and premature].

He filled forlorn lungs with oxygen

when I was dead inside.

I learned to exhale

on my own

[because of him].

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grahf's picture

I like the addition to your extended metaphor technique; the parentheticals at the end of each stanza really punctuate them and flesh out the rest of the piece. The piece also has a natural, if somewhat predictable, ending. It felt smooth all in all, and with the right imagery woven in (I expect no less from you these days).