Forgive me, for my eyes remain open long enough that I reach the hours where I begin finding my reflection in demons and artists, the time of night where my best self-interest rests far from me.
It has always been this way.
I will remember to pray for the lost and forget what it feels like to be found in your embrace.
I will fail to recognize the truth in your reassurances while the sting of the stick hits my knuckles again and again for not writing correctly, for not using the proper hand to form another's words.
I will unlearn every moment of healing and search for myself amongst shadows.
I will forget you.
Please, forgive me.
YOU ARE READING
HEAVENLY CORRUPTION
PoésieThe ramblings of a woman who spent too much time in confession and too little time trying to figure out what exactly she was apologizing for.
