i told my doctor that
i've had thoughts of suicide
i told him that sometimes
i press the flesh of my palms against my windpipe
and try to force the good things out of my dirty lungs
i asked him
*after the years of erosion,
will my face still be my own?*
he said, no
so i clasped my hands around my neck
to keep from breathing
this air that doesn't belong to me
this air i do not deserve
this air that will never be my own