Waiting on Shallow Breaths

You said you loved her,
like love is just something that comes and goes.
Something temporary
like ice.

And it's been cutting holes
in my lungs.

I just kept coughing up hope,
until I finally forgot how to breathe.

And you just sat there
and watched me drown.

I got so lost in the dark that I split myself up into stars:
Watched as I fell into fragments,
shedding shells of light.

So I prayed that you would find me.
But somewhere along the line
you forgot what love is.
And now I'm wondering where all those loopholes went,
and all the times we promised
to get lost in them.

I've spent so many days begging for forgiveness
that I forgot I could
forgive myself.

And now I wonder: Where does hope live?
And does he ever think of me, too?

So I spent my nights,
with lungs waiting motionless.
By now,
they're crumpled and mismatched
with all the wrong crevices.

Because I've always been afraid of forgiveness.