There is no closure for a wound that refuses to open. Stitches only create more holes in the whole of my heart. You spew words meant to soothe, an oral aloe. But each syllable abrades my soul. I rub salt in my raw flesh because I allow you such trespasses. I cannot offer you forgiveness when it is my guilt that washes over your rejection. My walls remain high, but not shatter proof. My focus was misplaced, momentarily, but that was a moment too long as I now have to pick shards of you from my disgrace.