Forgiven In Theory

Yeah, I know,
I'm "supposed to be over it".
I should have forgotten
And moved on by now.

But do you know what?
It's not as simple
As I thought it would be.

I don't want to hug you,
I don't want to smile at you.
I don't want to laugh with you.
I don't really want to be anywhere near you.

Because you opened my wounds,
Ripped the skin apart,
Stitch by every broken-bloodied-stitch,
With every word you spoke,
Every sentence you wrote.
And then you rubbed in the salt,
Bathed the cuts in vinegar
And lemon juice,
Before dressing them
In sandpaper bandages.

And yet,
I say nothing.
I said nothing.

I let you do it all without so much
As a change of expression.

I want things to be alright.
Really, I do.
But I can't forget yet.
And, as such, I can't truly forgive.