The way our breathing became labored

The way our breathing became labored even though nothing seemed wrong. My friend peeked into the aimless gaze of daydreamers, reliving his worst moments, commending them on being so strong. My body held on though I held snapped threads in my hands and patches of my flesh were missing entirely. I was proud of my little mess... all the mistakes, every scar, and every tear told a story of a life I was strong enough to bear. In time, he began to see the details that held us like invisible stitches together. The scars we held within, the tears despite our dry faces. He saw the little sigh that came with the song. I wear a patch of pride upon my chest, showing all my self-glory of the good times and the rest.

is the best prayer that anyone could say. I say that one a lot. Thank you expresses extreme gratitude, humility, understanding.
With respect,