Black Paint Of An Impure Saint

 
You always find your way to me.  
And every time I sense  
even your presense,  
I feel like a black rose on snow.  
So vulnerable and afraid of your existence.  
 
I wish I could forgive you  
for the vetand actions you caused upon me.  
But I know that what you did is Unforgivable,  
And to be forgiven of what action you hath compelled,  
Thou shalt be a Saint.  
 
But to be a Saint, one shall be pure  
of the black paint that disrupts the soul.  
And I do not contain a soul of purity  
that religion doth explain.  
But a soul of pure strength that  
can block those with vorpal thorns  
that prick my flesh and pour scarlet blood from thy veins.  
 
I yearn for the chance to truly look into your eyes  
and see the truth, and to forgive you;  
 To know that you wish to apologize.  
But you must contain the rage and poison of Hades in you;  
For if you truly yearn for my forgiveness, Not thy suffering,  
You should have written a letter, or note.  
Of only three words, for what you did:  
 
             "I am sorry"  
 
 

    8/13/12