and i know that no amount of apologies can make this right

i know i have it all
and i know all it will take
is the opening of my palm to let it in,
but my fingers are curled shut
and no force could pry them open again.

i'm sorry love but i've run out of ways
to hold you in my arms,
when my fists are like little balls of sorrow,
closed to you and to us
and to even my own understanding of this situation.

despite this,
i'll miss memorizing our bodies
without permission,
and waking up to your soft breath
exhaling your way until one in the afternoon.
i'll always miss you,
your shoulder blades and ribcage,
the bare bones i've run my finger down
so many times.

i just can't comply to that anymore,
i can't keep trying to figure out
how long i can last between breaths,
letting the gap between moments
and seconds and minutes
expand.
expand and expand.

i've been working on
how to fill those gaps but i've run out of air.
i've run out of air
and i've run out of strength
to keep my hands open,
out for you.

just please tell me you won't be miserable,
please tell me i'm not the only one
running out of air.
maybe i sound stupid rambling
about running out of things
and yes,
i suppose i haven't run out of ways
to keep this conversation going.

so when the inevitable moment arrives
where i watch you turn and walk away,
maybe i'll fill the gap between us
with warm thoughts of whispers and shoulder blades.
and whispering into shoulder blades late in the night,
when i wanted to tell you
i still love you,
but didn't have the lung capacity to exhale it.