Youth and it's sorry transgressions....

I forgive even when you don't deserve to be forgiven.

It's terrible.

It's like Christ's grace when I am only the closest to a Satan sweetheart.

While you like a wounded child tug to my skin like a leech to a body, you refuse to taper off.

Every time I smell more of my blood and your salt, you say sorry.

You say sorry for leaving me alone, desolate, devastated.

But, you never forget to shame me.

You say sorry that you crossed me out.

You say sorry that you acted out.

You say sorry for not counting me in. 

You say sorry for rubbing off an invisible potion on my naked skin.

And I still tell you were beautiful.

That you are beautiful.

That you are like kites' strings

between the hands of winnowing women 

that's a transgression 

You are like the dim shadows of sky lanterns 

On scarred necks

You know I would never gift cigars 

to a tarred windpipe 

But I would not hesitate to gift you a vampire ride 

And I don't know why do I do that,

how do I do that 

Because youth is funny sweetheart

It is terribly funny.

I still cannot look at you with my squinched eyes

I have lost my childhood innocence 

I still cannot talk to you as if it's all a dream

I have fallen for no good of anyone

And I do know, I do know 

That if I tell you to hold me down in a chlorinated pool with crystal clear sparkles 

You would be sipping chlorine

like its quenching your thirst out of something 

And tell me sorry again

With a guiltlessness so profound 

That it's almost like a strange hangover 

It's almost like a devastating sinking of land 

With wailing, orphaned children, traded off as refugees.