So I do this all the time.  I listen its flow, placing my hand near her head to feel its movement in her sleep.  For seventeen years, I have lived an inch within her breath, trying to capture it within my emotion.

It comes and goes, a slimmer of feeling touching my tongue from conversation to conversation.  Sometimes agitation controls it's flow, and then it's a smile, a frown, or a laugh.  For seventeen years, I have committed myself to this woman, to every inch of her body, her personality, her habits.  And when conflict grows within us and depression governs our perceptions, I remember.  I remember the emotions I lost in her glance when we met, I remember the touch I felt at her side, satisfying even the desires my ignorance shielded.

So I do this all the time.  I feel her breath, moving in and out, and remember any agitation will soon be replaced with warmth.   And as it moves, so does my passion, and every complacency I overlook is worth another look, for this woman, this relationship, will fade and grow again, like her sleeping breath.