This is not an apology or a plea.

Instead I'm building a home in your hipbones where i was too afraid to lie before. Our hipbone home will be made of titanium and the softest Egyptian cotton i can find. Security is our solace, and although solitude is my familiar friend, I'm trying my very hardest to be good to you.

This is not an apology or a plea.

But if it were you would feel the sincerity in the marks I've left on you. My intentions are left in bruises, as not so pleasant reminders that i am inconsistent. I am not apologizing for my lack of empathy, or the fact that i know when things end. My hardest parts will batter against you and you will take it, because i know you.

This is not an apology or a plea.

If it were i would most certainly plead guilty, but honesty was never my strongest virtue— or one of them at all. I will never take blame for my incomplete promises or the messes I've made.

This is not an apology or a plea.

It is simply a warning for anyone who tries to fill a crater with a footprint. Maybe i am speaking to a nonexistent lifeform, or maybe i am speaking to the eighth wonder of the world.
To anyone who thinks their footprint will fill a crater: the first man on the moon matters more than any asteroid.