My reasons for not calling on you to speak in place of my waterless tongue are excuses that have never flown. (Forgive me for poisoning your air.) How could I have ever expected excuses to offer any useful silhouette with their idle legs and wingless backs? (Forgive me for destroying your forests.) Indifference is so much heavier with its shrugging load oppressing even the strongest of voices.
I want you to know that it is only my lessons now that have a chance to lift themselves above the cackling redness found in Love's absence. (Forgive me for infecting your water.) I am sorry, I forgot you were waiting. (Forgive me for bombing your children.) I was too busy sleeping to notice. Might you forgive me for not seeing that my back had space enough for a pair of wings?