I don't know
how I'm going to find the volume
in my throat
to speak the words,
  to tell you
  goodbye.
I don't know
if you'll still be breathing
after you've inhaled
  the torrent of pain
  upon my whisper.
I don't know 
if my heart will keep kicking
once it's seen 
  your eyes turn to oceans
and watched 
  the colours fade.
I don't know
how I will stand,
how I will find the iron in me
  to make my legs work,
  to take the final steps away.

I am sorry
that I'm running
  and it kills me
  but I'm bleeding.
I'm sorry,
I can't help that
I cry myself to sleep,
  wake up from nightmares
  where we're discovered.
I'm sorry
but I hate it;
  so weak, so trapped,
so i'm taking this small strength,
hoping it will be enough
to numb the wounds of 
  never again.
I'm sorry,
I'm so very sorry,
  fuck, I. Love. You. 
  With. All. Of. Me.