At the bottom of our hearts, we wanted to be a survival story. How do you tell someone that the strength they see in you isn’t as beautiful as they believe. That it hurts to breathe.

I lay awake and pictured all the ugly ways i could hurt you like you’d hurt me, cut you open and spill out all that future, seal off all the heart chambers and let them fill up with memories that taste like iron, make you carry around a belly full of regret that never seems to let you finish a sandwich

I lay awake thinking of how i’d make you feel like i did, a ship that had been burned down by its captain, a mouse in front of a lion,  a yard that never grew flowers, or worse, a flower that nobody ever loved enough to try to strangle

I lay awake and pictured you showing up in ridiculous places and what i’d say when i saw you finally how i’d hurt you so you could be hurting too,
beginning with,
“i forgive you.”

-ri

I don’t know. Maybe i’m bad at letting go...