Jan 2018
Have you written that letter yet?
....
Do you know the first thing about apologizing?
For singeing your eyelashes every time you relight a cigarette that's burned too far down
because you can't keep anything ablaze for too long
Letting the ashes fall off the edge and dust your floor and burn through your jeans and scorch your car doors
Putting the flame out on your neck so no one else has to leave their mark anymore
Because you're still blackened from the last person who charred you
Did you apologize yet?
For letting tequila run your mouth so you don't need to
And leaving slurred words hanging from your drunken lips
that propose no substance other than the poison you fill yourself with
Don't you know how to apologize?
You've put so much love into another body that you've forgotten to love your own
You are a garden that let weeds infest themselves in your home
You have branches in your build that tear through your fingers when they're overgrown
And their thorns rip your arms and the roots replace your bones
But have you even said you're sorry?
You're broken and you're beaten and you're bruised
You think you're nothing more than what he made you feel in that blackened room
He may rinse the bloodstains from your bed sheets
He might wash the sins from your allure
He can hold your crying face in his palms tonight, but honey, he can't be your cure
Have you written that letter yet?
For pulling at your naked sides and thinking, "This is as good as it's going to get"
You've found more comfort in breaking down your vessel than you've found in accepting it
And you're still suffering the repercussions of the last blade you bit
Telling yourself, "I'll quit, I'll quit" but two things cannot stay together if they never fit
to begin with
have you done it yet?
Have you forced your brain to stand in front of your body, and say through muffled cries, "You never deserved what I put you through"?
Write out the apology now
Sign it in the blood you drew
Mail it with the dead branches in your framework you outgrew
I know you're broken and beaten and bruised
But you're so much more than what you feel alone in this room
Have you said you're sorry to yourself yet?
....
Do you know the first thing about apologizing?
For singeing your eyelashes every time you relight a cigarette that's burned too far down
because you can't keep anything ablaze for too long
Letting the ashes fall off the edge and dust your floor and burn through your jeans and scorch your car doors
Putting the flame out on your neck so no one else has to leave their mark anymore
Because you're still blackened from the last person who charred you
Did you apologize yet?
For letting tequila run your mouth so you don't need to
And leaving slurred words hanging from your drunken lips
that propose no substance other than the poison you fill yourself with
Don't you know how to apologize?
You've put so much love into another body that you've forgotten to love your own
You are a garden that let weeds infest themselves in your home
You have branches in your build that tear through your fingers when they're overgrown
And their thorns rip your arms and the roots replace your bones
But have you even said you're sorry?
You're broken and you're beaten and you're bruised
You think you're nothing more than what he made you feel in that blackened room
He may rinse the bloodstains from your bed sheets
He might wash the sins from your allure
He can hold your crying face in his palms tonight, but honey, he can't be your cure
Have you written that letter yet?
For pulling at your naked sides and thinking, "This is as good as it's going to get"
You've found more comfort in breaking down your vessel than you've found in accepting it
And you're still suffering the repercussions of the last blade you bit
Telling yourself, "I'll quit, I'll quit" but two things cannot stay together if they never fit
to begin with
have you done it yet?
Have you forced your brain to stand in front of your body, and say through muffled cries, "You never deserved what I put you through"?
Write out the apology now
Sign it in the blood you drew
Mail it with the dead branches in your framework you outgrew
I know you're broken and beaten and bruised
But you're so much more than what you feel alone in this room
Have you said you're sorry to yourself yet?
