Not being able
to kiss your tears away
for the first time,
because I was
the one whose careless heart
sent them streaming down your cheeks
in the first place

kills
me.

I look, appalled, at my hands
at my mouth
for the things they've done to you
denying my only promise to myself,
that you being hurt
would not be of my own doing.

Trying to tear away the skin
that holds memories
I wish hadn't happened
never works, I've learned.

But how does one,
ever forgive themselves
for something like
what i've done to you.

You asked me if

we would ever die

and I said that

no, i don’t think so

there’s too many wounds

still opening

and not enough scars

there’s all the time

and so much more to love.

You asked me why,

and I said

that because

we don’t believe

in god

there would be nobody

to take what is

ours.