It’s in a secret folded letter,
in a book somewhere.
Building dust in your,
crusty childhood trauma.

Words like “I’m sorry that
we couldn’t fit together”.
Maybe “I’m sorry that they
didn’t teach you to love better”.

It might say that I just
want you to finally be happy.
You’ll think that’s another one
of my unforgettable darling lies.

But the anger I’ve been feeling
is completely unforgivable.
Making no better reason
to relentlessly forgive.

Seeking lustful validation
is probably my sin.
Seeking your forgiveness
is probably my mistake.

But time is always our cruelist
and truest confessors,
and I have never been betrothed
to anyone, but the truth.