Last 3 letters of the spring

I don’t want to talk

I have nothing to say

aside from

forgive yourself

forgive them

forgive me

Forgive the world for lacking honest tears and brave men

and the evenings for changing into bitter nights

and the mornings for still grieving the shadows

Forgive the bottles of wine 

emptied

for dragging your feet

shuffling 

bolting the door with my body

and my shirt

unbuttoned 

drying out a call

the music for moving something—-sunken once

deeper inside

draining away my scent 

smell my hair when you hug me and let it sink 

Forgive the end of the world for never coming 

and all the empty chairs left empty when all you need is swarm

Forgive the voice of some reason

any

for never penetrating the grit you’ve built yourself on

and the rain for washing the traces of 3 summers, another 

stand-in lover

losing its ROOK

Forgive ME for arriving untimely

deprived of devotion

with my second-rate rawness

awaiting my turn to be given charity

despite my surrender

denying my drought

Forgive yourself for foolishly losing your battles while I was at war with myself

winning for both of us

giving up confidence, becoming dust through your fingers

Forgive tomorrow for never coming

proving not enough

Forgive my ugly thoughts for not being cleaner 

I’ll bleach them, I promise.