To My Lover (I’m Sorry)

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How deep we plunge past bright morning

and fall, I fall, into (you) again;

this vast tangle of hurts unspoken

where we are torn and tearing, unhealed.

You with your wildfire words, a flash

and the cold that follows — I, too,

half a shadow, shuffling lies

like cards to keep (myself) hidden, safe.

We are lovers who scald, who run rough

and ragged against the edges of truth.

Oh love, how strange it is to hold

such ruin so close, to carve it deep.

And if we have gone too far (we have,

for this is what it means to burn), still

we dance in the ashes, draw shapes

of longing and reach, reach dangerously

for the damage that can’t be held or healed —

and yet we stay hopeful, pleading,

whispering that even charred ground

can green again, if we let it.

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