Forgive me, love.

I feel you pacing, your feet wearing a path back to the past

Only to have the present creep in with each dawn.

 

Forgive me, love.

I hear the little hiccup-sobs you try to hide in the folds of your pillow

Tucked away with all the other tear stains you won’t let me wipe away.

 

Forgive me, love.

I can see the lines of your body stretched rope-taunt with anger.

(There’s fear too, but you won’t admit that, even to yourself, and certainly not to me.)

 

Forgive me, love,

For burning bridges instead of building them.

Compared to the vast gulf of our silences, how can a hand-span seem so far?