confession

because your bed is

a confession box and

I haven’t stopped sinning

and you make me forget

what to do with my hands.

because there are times

we are meant to burn and

now is not one of them.

because I have loved you

until I have forgotten

what it was like to be whole.

because this love poem

has turned into an apology.

because I saw the way

you looked at her.

because your mouth always

tastes like bourbon and

leaving.