Some days it is so hard to forgive you. I have a deep, burning hate. A hate so firey I must hold my chest from bursting, bite my tongue from stinging, sit on my hands to prevent writing words that I demand you hear. So I spin in place to concentrate on my feet.
They spin. The wheels in my head that Love runs on spin backwards. Towards you. For it is not fear from experience, but insufficient trust that enlightens my skepticism.
You spin like a DJ. Your promises on repeat. Your kinship on the playlist. Upcoming: heartbreak. Unhappiness sounds like a rock song and a lullaby, and the sound of your breath when you speak.
So I spin for forgiveness. A destination in absolutely nothingness. A clear head and a full heart. A white noise in empty air. Heart heated, but not overwhelmed. Tongue crisp but not sharp. Hands float free in lightness. And my body unmistakably quirky in freedom of the spin.