I forgive you. I forgave you a long time ago, but it doesn’t erase the memories stored in my skin or the crushing weight in my ribs. Writing gives key to the cage and allows me to escape so just to be clear I understand that this ishard to hear, hard to read, but I hope you can see that these were the seeds you planted in me. It just turns out they were weeds.
from my first poetry book,
Still Growing Wildflowers.
