Punctuation

Forfeit the Tiptoe Now

Tiptoe. Around the definition you forced upon my skin.
I am the villain.
The person at fault.
The person who never pleases you, or anyone for that matter.
If I were any other version of myself, I would allow it. I would fall victim to my own obscene apologies.
Granted, some of those times were warranted.
But if I were any other version of myself, I would have taken any measure of fault just to see a smile play with your eyes again.
I would have done anything to keep the waters calm.
Child, I am exhausted from playing the same game over and over again.
I realized I know every play for every piece like I know the freckle on the back of my thumb.
I am farthest from perfect, I'll be the first to openly admit, but no one is perfect—that's the thing.
I wish I could tell you that you are perfect, but darling you are so far from it.
There is so much growing and so much loving and losing and learning to do.
Despite maybe your quite common misconception, we are in different stages of our lives.
And you are slightly behind me in that chronological order.
So child, before you stick your neck up and walk into a room as if you own it, remember who you are and where you are and that you are so much younger than you think you need to be.
You grew up too fast in some places and in others you are still on schedule...it might pose to be difficult, but remember who you are.
And who you are not.
Something I will never forget is the time you made me hate myself and forfeit my trust in you and everything you promised me.
And those scars remain forever.
Oh child, if only you had remembered your place.