i’ve got a wound i wish you would nurse.
i know, it’s a selfish request
to ask for closure.
but i have a mouth that doesn’t forget,
feet that struggle to move on.
i have an exit wound to offer you
and my brain remembers even if i hate that it does.
i somehow don’t hate you for what you’ve done to me
nor do i foster resentment towards my recklessness
i understand why it feels heavy in my chest,
but it must hurt now
so that it does not **** me later.