Untitled
Untitled
I haven't lived that long
And yet I feel like dying
Every time I reach out to someone
My touch makes them bleed
And leaves me bleeding too
All I can do is make you hurt
If I ever was your friend
Please forgive me the wounds I gave you
That I would bear to take your pain away
If I could
What can I do to deserve your forgiveness
For I said too much
And stabbed us both through the heart
With my own fear and idiocy
Do you want me to forget?
If you ask it of me I will
If I forget can you forgive, querida?
I haven't lived that long
And yet I feel like dying
Every time I reach out to someone
My touch makes them bleed
And leaves me bleeding too
All I can do is make you hurt
If I ever was your friend
Please forgive me the wounds I gave you
That I would bear to take your pain away
If I could
What can I do to deserve your forgiveness
For I said too much
And stabbed us both through the heart
With my own fear and idiocy
Do you want me to forget?
If you ask it of me I will
If I forget can you forgive, querida?
posted by Andrew at 12:00 PM
3 Comments:
I really like this one. Brings back past memories that can be no more. I also dig what you did with The Needles Sequence. That has got to be one of the most disturbing reads in the history of poetry for some. Can you imagine the reaction if you turned that in, in English class? You'd probably give somebody a cardiac.
Oh, yeah! Not that I recommend you turning it in, in English class. That might have some pretty dire consequences in this day and age.
I dunno, my teacher's pretty cool, she might like it.
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