Pulse

the pulse in my veins form words on my skin;
each scar starts to sting; informing me that i
am clearly not forgiven.

my weak knees collide with fresh tears on the ground;
lungs expand; and i start screaming; but as hard as i
try; i do not make a single sound.

the voice in my head tells me i should forgive;
but my heart fights against the whispers;
because it's hard to let go of whats making
me live... this lie.

the sleepless nights i've spent crying;
are no where near there final end
because youve ripped this whole in
my heart; and its up to you; to make it mend.

goodnight.