I would like to pretend that I
deserve this feeling,
the choking unable to breathe sensation
that creeps from my gut to my throat.
I am sure if I would rip it open i could breathe,
but perhaps it would be easier to allow these tears to come
instead of suppressing them so you might not see.
I turn my head the other way,
and gaze out at the gray sky.
I imagine if I would be up there you might look at me
and you might have to suppress your tears as well.
but that my friend, is the irony of the dream.
There is no ifs, no other way,
and I am sure you will always hate me this way.
