Drowning

He was born so full of sustaining air his cheeks bulged.  In the early moments of his youth, he played with other youngsters, swimming in tight circles, even blowing small bubbles at each other.  They would regret the waste later, of course, but the young are always foolish.

When his lungful grew stale, he sought love.  One of his childhood playmates, a button-nosed brunette, was amenable to his initiating gestures.  They came together, clung to one another.  He breathed his air into her, saw her swell with the stirrings of new life. 

His lungs ached.  He sank, holding his breath.