READ TIME 01:11
I’ve gone and burnt down a new connection,
And completely ashed a brand new affection.
I can rationalize though,
saying ‘I am afraid of ______’–
Which is everyone’s story, mine just a rendition:
I think you are good
I’m afraid I’m no good
There was someone who told me for years
I’m no good.
The proportion of your goodness
In gross contrast to my badness
Made the obvious cure
To try and make sure
You stay away from me certain and steadfast.
And I hope you do.
And I pray you won’t.
And you certainly should.
And you better don’t.
I was nightmarishly terrible to a probably nice guy,
And I’m mortified, outwardly embarrassed why.
I’ve a shitty relationship with ______ and ______,
Is why carrion shame blooms-thrives inside.
That day was Father’s Day,
and for me that’s a bad day.
You and he have the same name.
I fucked up that day.
That day I called you, blacked out and wild,
Right after you said you weren’t drinking awhile.
I blind lit that fire
To extinguish desire,
And I don’t even know what I said.
I hope you forgive.
And I pray you won’t judge,
Because that wasn’t me,
But I’m afraid that it was.
Like a diary whose secrets the blue flames lick up,
Like a structure whose wood beams the fire envelops,
Like a sky burning orange in its evening retire,
I lost something-that-meant-something when I lit that fire.
I’m sorry, I am sorry. I don’t know what I’m doing.
You were the most beautiful thing around I could ruin.
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