Notebook, June 19, 1990

Forgiveness will infect me

slowly.

Poison for me to swallow.

Oh, but how much better

I will feel.

How much better I will

feel.

Hate is nothing precious,

nothing scarce.

And my love for you,

so out of touch.

This love I have lost for you,

I never hope to find again.

Yet, let forgiveness color

my memories.

Let it color my

reality.

Because it surely will.

For now I will remember,

because one day I will

forget.

And when I am surprised

once again,

never worry—

you never need to worry.

Forgiveness will come.