Grace

today i will try again
to remember the good ole days
and how fleeting an ideology that is
i am a poor excuse for a lover
a son
a brother
a friend

but i do not exist
to be inherently good
or maliciously bad
i exist in a series of questions
only to find the answers
laid to waste in the death of the former "me"
and the resurrection of this new thing
that requires much of what i cannot give
but you take it anyway
and give back to me "yours"
and through your lens
the "bad lover, bad son, bad brother, bad friend"
looks perfect
once and for all
as through each new day
you dip pieces of my flesh
in your blood