Burning

You are shaking fists & trembling teeth.
I know:
you did not mean to be cruel.
That does not mean you were kind.

What is left here?
Only the quivering of the trees,
only the rippling of the lake.

Head in lap, check.
Sorry, check.
I won’t do it again, check,
check, check.

Sometimes, I think you forget.
I am not God.
I do not forgive.

-Venetta Octavia

I want to give in so badly--his hot breath on my neck, words whisper apology and remorse--"Is this ok?" "Can I hug you?" "Can I kiss you?" and all I muster is yes. It has now been 48 hours since the title disappeared; The pictures of us once so proudly displayed, now exist in only a shared memory. Yet deep in the night, his arms still anchor me, and I let all be momentarily well. Last night I joked that friends don't do what we were doing, finding comfort only in each other's embrace, "we're not friends," he said in reply. So sternly and emotionless yet full of a love I know he is scared to show. Is it better to suffer for this being in hopes of a change, or to release my burden and heal as time takes me? Is it better to speak or to die?

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