I want to dig you open. Ill muscled, you'll mend with me. See the holes in my back? They never close. Would you want to know why? Because every person I tell, their screaming reactions become "no". I feel how every eye stares down desperately at the shovel in my grasped hand. They beg me that If I forget then I'll forgive. But it doesn't always have to be so that way. We live in every seasons. And exchange air into our mouths as they were words.