the words “i love you” feel strange in my mouth
like molasses they roll over my tongue feeling around for a way out
slowly filling up all the space they can inhabit
afraid they will not find safety anywhere else except
behind my molars, as cavities

the words “i miss you” feel strange in my lungs
they are the flint that sets fire to the O2 and burns it all up
nothing left but ash: i want you everywhere and
you need me nowhere
the residue is fear

the word “stay” feels strange in my hands
when i stretch out my fingers, they shake, expecting skin
i’m sorry, there is no one left for you to touch
i’m sorry, you have to forgive yourself someday for burning every bridge
birds’ hollow bones help them fly but you are a human

the words “i’m sorry” feel strange in my head
it doesn’t mean what we think it does: instead we spit it out, hoping it takes its own form
because we are never truly sorry: my defence system tells me i mean forgive me
but i understand that i crave a deserved negation of your forgiveness
i couldn’t bear the negation if i were truly sorry.