p.s. i can't decipher myself

i was so willing,
i bent and i bent but the pressure was so great
that i broke all the same,

i cracked apart on your honest shoulders
(and for that i am sorry)
despite what i say
(i am sorry. i am so, so sorry.)

and now i can't find all my pieces,
because so much of me is missing now,
all the sinews that held me together have snapped,
all the bones that kept me standing have shattered,

and these little glass fragments
that are the color of your lungs,
of the air when the sun has just risen,
of a flood,
of a rose garden,
of a thousand years of the unknown,

they are like dust in my shaking palm.
i can't feel anymore
and now i am struck with the fear of god
because i betrayed you
and i have been used so woefully,

i am a pencil sketch of a judas,

and i wish more than anything that i was holding your hand
and lying in a field beside you with both our hearts
beating in sync,
and begging your forgiveness.