I reached between my shoulder blades this morning, and pulled from it a blade with your name written on the handle. I want to forgive you, but the wound is deep and pain killers leave me delusional.

Only the naive can be forgiven.
The rest are fickle with desperation.

I will instead use your blade to carve another niche. Carved with beauty and grace, open eyes, and a loving heart.

The pain will subside, the scar will fade. I will not fall from a blade so callously placed by fear, and delusion.

I offered you my love.
You have what you came for.

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