Sin

My sins with you have been those of laughing with you, my smile on your neck and your arms on my hips. The way I looked at my reflection in your eyes and how you stroked my knuckles while we walked. 

They are those of perpetuating the street where we held hands. That for me the last bank where we talked with honesty is a sacred place. Sometimes I cry because you lied and hurt me. I was jealous, possessive and crazy with you yet I was also raw, exposed and yours.

And you stole yourself.

My mortal sin is the one of still hoping for a cross of college. That you have the scarf around your neck and the tic on your nose. 

T.A.