A choice made as I rode in cars with demons, which in their haunting, offered sense.
I was yours. You were wrong to never see that. To never claim it.
I want to find you when you sleep. Reach through your dreams and wrap my arms around your waist.
Drawn to a boy who I knew, far down in the soul of me, was too far to grab and pull close enough to swallow.
A memory is often skewed
black-balled, but powdered blue.
Forgiving is one part forgetting and three parts letting go.
I’m still that person with soft skin and an open heart. Whether rich or poor. Lost or found. I deserve to not be forsaken.