December 4th, 2021
To dream of you, what an awful punishment to a crime I didn't commit. If I could get a message to you somehow, would I? Even more, should I? I risk my good life, my good love just to even miss you! I risk what I've gained just to even dream of you and utter words of what conceivably happened. The loose distance of our faces, weaving in and out like we've always wanted to, and the touch of your fingers-all still so dense in my head. The you I conjured up is someone nonexistent; a version I assume is living now in a space unreachable. To me, it is everything. To you, it is up in the air. Know that I am sorry to everyone I have hurt, and I am most sorry to you. The worst punishment of all is not knowing if you are sorry too.
R.K.
YOU ARE READING
Holeheart
PoetryI am the forgiver. I am the destroyer. I'm not at fault, but I deserve to be. Poetry and Prose Volume V 2021 DISCONTINUED
