Forgiveness

I’ve spoken of forgiveness and remembrance;
I’ve defended all my memories,
making sure they remain, they don’t fade away.
I can’t.
Every ounce still belongs;
every memory still jolts me in the middle of the night.
They keep me awake,
making sure I always have them,
and keep me going.
Hope.
That all powerful stimulant.

I ask for forgiveness, and it drips,
Like molasses, those sweet tears
That kept enthralling
Our reality.

“Don’t pout”
Too late,
Always so late.

No courage,
That’s where it all belongs,
No courage, no rage, simple as that, rage,
Rage that life could be so simple,
Rage to throw all away, well, not all,
But that all important thing, love.

Wouldn’t be the first, history confesses,
Love is freely disposable,
A tradable commodity,
But not this, this will always remain, obscured
By my penchant for wishful thinking,
Against my penchant for wishful inaction,
By the sand trap of life that clogs my pores, and numbs me, numbs
That’s how I survive, numb
That’s how I breathe, numb,
That’s my absence, numb,
Not hiding, just numb,
Because your presence will hail my numbness
Destroy it and my penchant for inaction might suffocate, and it
Will appear as if finally I will, I will, but
Eventually I will just hurt you again, and again,
Until I shed my penchant for calm ineptitude, and embrace you
with my new penchant for common sense.
And love.