Renewed

You used to be so full of life;
I felt bad for feeling sad.
The treasure chest under your bed
is where you keep the joy you've had.
The photographs, the Chili's coasters
autographed with secret notes
that told you things that, written,
are worth so much more than spoken

from a tongue that manipulates
the thoughts inside my head,
tweaking sweet ideas and tender thoughts
to something less instead.
Please forgive me, but my mouth
seems only good for paying debt
for your past regrets.
Are you sorry yet?

I hope you are, I hope your tears exhaust
their well as you read this.
I hope you know that you're forgiven
and re-experience the bliss
that you know is still possible,
and you know you haven't missed.
Please forgive yourself, my dear,
or you'll continue to feel amiss.
Please forgive yourself of all of this.