I ask not for apologies, nor
do I ask for remorse.
all I ask is that you
learn what love ought to be.
I asked that you learn.
I ask that you bare your
soul to the ones that come
after me, the way I did for you.
that you unabashedly offer
your trust and love the way
that I always have. I ask
that you hold out your hands
without worrying what may hit them,
without fear that you pull them back
bloodied and bruised.
all I ask, after the hell
you brutally subject me to,
is that you sprint a mile in my shoes, maybe two.
I ask that you attempt to understand me.
Only then, when you have felt my blisters, the
rhythm of my racing heart, the way the
atmosphere rolls itself around me, only then
can you accuse me of being weak.