slam it!

Our blood pumps so loud the neighbors think we’re fucking when I’m just trying to find the nerve to touch your face.
—  Andrea Gibson / saphael

here lies all the sentences cut short by my indecisiveness
all the periods stapled on after words that weren’t meant
to be the finish

i run my hands through frostbitten soil 
and scrape my palms on headstones
where the bloodiest poems of mine are buried–
funny how each one is engraved with your name

and i will not apologize for writing about you
just like you will never apologize for making me
not because you aren’t sorry
but because you don’t realize that it’s your fault

i didn’t ask to be a poet
although it is my fault that i’ve let it ruin my life
i wish i could stifle the urge to bleed onto pages
i wish i didn’t have to bury every sweet song 
you had ever whispered in my ear

is this a love poem or an apology letter?
i can’t tell the difference between them anymore–
mostly because i love you, but i’m sorry for it.

—  gravedigger -c.h. // instagram: (via @poeticaffinity)