Forgiveness Of The Golden Boys
I am in love with more boys than I can count on all of my fingers, and for that I forgive myself.
I forgive myself for forgetting the boy who substitutes his first name for his middle name because it fits him better.
I forgive myself for thinking about the boy who speaks about the rain as if it was his friend, and not his greatest inconvenience.
I forgive myself for listening to the boy who manifested life itself with his voice, and composed the breath in my lungs with his hands.
I forgive myself for being constantly reminded of the boy who had a smile that reminded me of the sun on a bad day, and the moon on a good one.
I forgive myself for laying next to the boy who couldn’t find his place in the world, and tried to make me lose mine.
I forgive myself for watching the boy who danced just to turn his overwhelming grief into certain harmony.
I forgive myself for abandoning the boy who invited himself into an empty house before inviting himself into my vacant body.
I forgive myself for believing the boy who used the word love as an anchor instead of an emotion.
I forgive myself for trusting the boy who gave me roses dipped in gold when all I wanted was his hand.
I forgive myself for forgiving things that should not be forgiven.