To My Lover (I’m Sorry)
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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