DownDownDown

I shuddered through the symptoms
of an early morning breakdown,
tracing my shaking fingers along
the billowing sails of white sheets.
I rose.

I acknowledged my lack of knowledge
while I thumbed through
phone numbers
and reached
yours.
I can't ever call again..

I read a proverb, once,
about how the sun never begged forgiveness
from the sky for holding her
so many many years.
Why does reality
force me to beg?

I suppose that this
is my black box letter to you,
because my airplane's going
down.