and i am sorry, oh god i am so sorry that i cannot apologize for the things that have made my love hard. i cannot take blame for the way other fingertips have burned my skin, i cannot atone for the bite-marks on my wrists, or the start and finish lines, the races that have been run down my thighs and to my ankles. i cannot pardon the graveyard of past love that vandalizes my body like an oil portrait, i have always looked like a museum exhibit for the art of leaving. i am carved out by the stained glass of all of my goodbyes and it has taken my love by the throat, it has rubbed my mouth raw, it has made gasps of air between the breaks of kisses hurt my teeth. i am sorry that i cannot excuse the people that have made me flinch, made me distrust, made me carry myself gentler when it rains. all i can do is give you a paintbrush and tell you that i will still be art when you are finished with me.
i dont really like how this ends. i dont really like any of it. but sometimes you just have to write it all down so you have somewhere to put these things.