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To the lion under my skin, forgive me.

For the lion under my skin, who roars so loud that everyone, except I, can hear him.
For the heartbeat under my chest that thumps like a ship about to capsize, sitting under the hands of an ocean, trembling, to keep it afloat.
For the feet I feel walking across the splintered boardwalk,
for the feet I feel tugging at the strings embedded like kites in my hipbones;
I am sorry, I am just not ready to run yet
I am still trying, to find my breath.
 
Forgive me,
To the lion under my skin,
Forgive me.
Had I known you had screamed your throat dry, scratching at my veins, for someone to unzip my flesh, for someone, to open your cage;
Forgive me,
To the lion under my skin,
Forgive me.
Had I known the last time I felt the ocean trickle down my temples, the sun, mistaking it for tears, had I known
this would be the last time, I never would have taken no for answer, when you told me that your bones felt too heavy, to stand here any longer.
Had I known, holding your silence in handfuls, cupping the deafening sounds of the words that never came from your mouth, would’ve kept us whole
I would have swallowed every bit of your breath until your lungs wrapped their fingers around your neck, begging, for one more chance
If only I had known
this could’ve kept us whole,
I never would have stopped.
I never would have dug down beneath your throat searching, for something that I already knew the answer to;
I never would have made those words, real.
So forgive me,  
Dear lion,
Forgive me,
for not knowing sooner that things go; and we must let them.

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