The 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—hollowed 
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.