I would like to formally apologize for the size of my lungs because they will never be as expansive as my love or as loud as my voice longs to be as heard or as tumultuous as my passion rumbles in need of parallel composition
and I just want to say sorry that I dream to donate every cubic inch of air that my tiny chest can or rather cannot hold and breathe it into you in attempt to make you whole again instead of the ghostly thin form you hold above my head nowadays but today is Sunday and my hands are dry and cracking from the Friday on which I finally admitted to myself that my lack of air is exactly the reason why you don't search me out for respiration even when you're grasping and gasping out of suffocating solitude
this apology is spelled out in sighs those breaths you told me to hold in youthfully long exhales I promised you I would never pick up a cigarette once you started chain smoking I'm choking in this secondhand smoke let me fall through your fingers like ashes the golden spark has died put out my flame with your heel stamp it into your coffin so the world doesnt catch fire deprive it of oxygen tell it youre sorry for not wrapping your hands around its neck before now
tell it you're sorry that sometimes I find myself becoming angry at the parchment crumpling between my palms because the FRAILTY OF MY HANDS WONT COMPLY WITH THE HUNGER FOR EXPLANATION AND EXPLOITATION OF MY BRAIN AND MAYBE ITS THAT IMMATURE NEED FOR OXYGEN AGAIN BUT I HEAR MYSELF CRYING OUT FOR RELEASE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT NOT BECAUSE YOURE HOLDING ME AT THIS PRECARIOUS EDGE BUT BECAUSE YOU CHOOSE TO NEVER TIP ME OVER. (a sharp intake of breath)
(exhale)
I can't breathe. I think I might be allergic to you. I think you might be bad for my health.
there are three thousand miles between your sandy shores of ironically ****** air and my rainy lakes of needles. you'd think the contrary.
you lost your ashtray and replaced it with my inhaler.
I would like to formally apologize for the size of my lungs because they will never be as expansive as your love or as loud as your voice longs to be as heard or as tumultuous as your passion rumbles in need of parallel composition