Forgiveness is expected,
so it happens.
Something else lingers,
the residue.
Like a deep cut on your knee,
which hurt when you were a child,
healed a long time ago.
Now a fading but permanent line.
No words can describe what is felt,
it is best not to try.
It is the good,
the bad,
everything you are.
You take that line on your knee,
everything else unnamed,
accept that it is imperfectly you.
Be the better person now,
so no one else need forgive you,
and shall remember only love.