It's the final chip
in a week of crumbling foundations, dark
days whip-lashed with uncertainty and
faltering ears hearing words most unwelcome,
set to heed all that I do and yet has still been done.

Forgive me, eyes, for leaking salt
onto wounds so raw with blackening
guilt, faulted dreams and hopeless
expectations.

Forgive me, skin, for softnesses
weakness in such times of trial and
for the temptation to wreak destruction
on the only true thing I hold left.

And forgive me, heart, for taking
steps that were destined
to lead no where but this.