Tell her, “I’m sorry I had to kill us this way.”
Tell her, “these are not apology letters, but eulogies. Eulogies for roadkill and dead trees and all the beautiful things we could have become before we let the decay catch up to us.”
Tell her, “I’m crossing tightropes of words strung out of ex-lovers who meant way more than they should have, and you meant way more than you should have.”
Tell her, it is something you are not sorry about, tell her it taught you to walk one foot at a time instead of jumping right in.
Tell her, “I’m sorry I had to kill us this way, because there are certain graves that are too hard to dig through and my hands are not willing to bleed for you.”
– excerpt from a book I’ll never write