I am the girl who cried apology,
and you,
the embodiment of naive forgiveness,
come running at each little distress.
one day, you’ll learn,
but until then,
just tell me it’s okay.
I can tell you’re tired
of hanging up my skeletons every night.
I’ve been growing lazy with keeping them
in their proper places,
letting them crumble into piles on the floor.
your exasperated sighs grow heavier,
but you never argue or complain,
simply cleaning up every mess I make.
I wonder when you’ll hang me up,
but until then,
we’ll pretend a little longer.
let our hands intertwine,
and we’ll ignore the difference
between love and habituation.
let me repent in your light,
and teach me how to become it.
I want to learn to be something
other than sorry.