And in my dreams,
you hold my head in your hands,
calloused fingers soothing my tangled hair,
my tears spattering your worn cotton shirt.
"I forgive you," you whisper. "I know why you bite."
"But what if all I am is the teeth I used?" I sob. "What if all I am is all I cannot let go of?"
"You are not what fear made you become," you say. "I forgive you. I know why you bite."
eve's note: this is inspired by a line from a poem, which is: "I'm not a violent dog, I don't know why I bite." i think about it all the time. i hope it makes you feel a little less alone (fingers crossed right?)
YOU ARE READING
HEAVENLY CORRUPTION
PoetryThe 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.
