"But that was the center of my summer... everything is slowly falling apart"
"You still have me "
"I swear I'll **** myself if things don't work out"
"Don't joke like that"
"Why? Haven't you ever thought of suicide?"
"I guess once last year...Have you?"
"No"
I hate lying.

I like my days melancholy.
But beautifully so.
When the sky is grey,
with the few solitary raindrops.
I stand at the sink, in the fading sunlight,
washing my two navy dresses.
A soft old jazz piece plays on the radio,
I turn the fabric over in my hands.
Scrubbing between buttons and seams,
washing the remnants of church services,
a job interview, presentations
down the rusting drain.
I dunk a lace collar into the water
it comes up dark, black, heavy
as though someone has dipped it in tar.
It's delicacy is gone,
but it's spaces seemingly filled.
I stretch it across my palm,
black against alabaster.
The emptiness is here, today,
as it is in all days,
but for a few moments,
it feels filled.

It is hard to forgive sometimes
and I now understand that statement
to it's full potential because of you
and I know that
one day I will forgive you
I do not know when that day will be
but I promise, one day
I will forgive you
for it **all