There’s a rock that lives in my chest

I’ve grown accustomed to it

She lets me take very shallow breaths and likes to push down hard

And even harder on the difficult days

I’ve had my rock for a long time

I don’t want to name her, or call her a pet

Because I don’t want her to become too fond of living in my chest

But maybe after 30 years together

We should exchange formalities

There’s a rock that lives in my chest

I want her to leave, but sometimes I think she wouldn’t know where to go without me

So she stays

And I try to breathe

Some days she takes a few moments away

And I feel free

Maybe she will take longer vacations away

So I can breathe more deeply

More often

But for right now she calls me home, and I have a pet rock

Who lives in my chest.