Guilty is synonymous with self-condemnation
And confessions only come out at night
I'm sorry for gracing you with my tyrannical presence
It's not that I want to clip your wings but my arms are made of scissors and you are always reaching for a hug
I can't control what I speak or what I feel
I can love you
I can love you the wrong way
I can leave words your skin with my mouth
I can blister you without making you sit in the sun
I can replace the joints between your bones with styrofoam
I'm sorry for building you with weak material
Guilty is synonymous with self-condemnation
Maybe confessions only come out at night
In Alaska, there is sunlight during the evening for 6 months
Maybe this shows the truth can be exposed with sun filtered through blinds instead of stars
Maybe it takes two different types of light to expose to different types of truths
Maybe I've changed my mind
Maybe I can't make up my mind
Maybe I'm not good for you
I'm not good for myself
I'm not sure of anything
I'm sure of one thing
I love you
But not the right way