It stings.
Do you understand?

It's like needles.
Can you feel it?

It burns.
Can't you see it?

Just why not?
You know the signs.
You know them well.
But why?
Just why and why not.
It doesn't matter, though it should.
It doesn't matter to you.

I regret.
I hurt.
I forgive.
Oh how I forgive.
You wouldn't know.
You aren't me.
No, you're not me.

At least they care.
At least they see.
At least they care enough to know about me.
I'll regret this in the morning I know.
I'll forgive you too.
I always do.

This is nothing but 1 am poetry but it's true.
So darn true.
Truer than rain and the sun.
Truer than the loved and lonely one.
Truer than the nose on your face.
Truer than meteorites flying out in space.
Truer than anything...everything.

I'll delete this in the morning.
You won't see it but that doesn't make it any less true.
The world will see.
The world with know.
This kind of poetry is always hard to write.
I write it though so you know.
Because this one is your fault.

Not mine.