here, we do not talk about the mistakes.
we do not bring them to the light,
we let them sit inside our dark places,
let them fester and rot; eventually,
we let them **** us.
it’s only a matter of time, you see.
but we never speak of them.

i didn’t quite understand
until judas knocked at my door
and held my hands in his
“I forgive you,”
he told me
“now forgive yourself.”

my friend once told me
“most people cannot sleep
because sleep requires peace”
and to this day
i still cannot meet his eyes

i walked in,
found him laying on the floor
wearing jeans and a sweater,
and he was shivering.
it was July.

i’m so sorry
that no one saw the dangers
of a sleeping sixteen-year-old
being kissed by strangers.

my heart woke me sobbing last night
“what can I do?” I asked shakily
and my heart whispered
“write the book.”

it was 4am when
i noticed his text.
“are you up?” he asked.
rubbing my eyes, i answered,
“yeah. need to talk?”
because anyone who is awake
at 4am is either heartbroken
or in love.

your pathetic apologies did not
save you then,
your pitiful threats of war do not
save you now,
you are lucky i carry the mercy
of a mother in my soul.

that long-distance relationships
do not exist.
that love doesn't care if it's three
feet apart or three thousand
miles between.