dear friends: an open letter (guest poem).

a poem by my good friend brandon warner


I would love to blame you,

I would love to say that all of these issues inside of me are your fault.

I would love to believe that I’m a blameless saint.

I have spent night after night,

screaming your name in anger,

believing that you are the sole cause of my depression,

believing that it’s your fault I can never feel love,

believing that I felt anxiety because of you,

believing that you ruined my life.

I committed to nights in an institute of bitterness towards you.

I lived my life believing that how you hurt me

was the worst pain I would ever experience.

I drug your name through the dirt of my present,

and I told every person in my line of sight that you broke.

That was wrong, I’m sorry.

I labeled you as the catalyst of my destruction,

the destruction I brought upon myself.

I assaulted you with a catapult of my accusations,

and filled my cannons with lies about you,

I resented you and built walls taller than Trumps;

I found every excuse to hide from you,

I found my identity in how you blamed me,

I found my oxygen in how you weren’t around,

I found nothing in trying to blame you for everything.

I told my family that you were cancer,

and that separation from you was the cure.

That was wrong, I’m sorry.

I sent you a letter, where my ink was filled with hatred,

I wrote my thoughts out on bitter sheets of paper,

and in everything I said, I blamed you.

I blamed you for the bad things,

And I promised I would never tell you the good things.

We have been in this life battle together even though we’ve been separated.

I could sit here and accuse you,

I could pretend that I’ve never done a thing wrong.

I could pretend that the stars in the sky shine in my favor.

I spent years doing that already.

That was wrong, I’m sorry.

Let me try to flip the script,

let me try to open my heart.

I did not ever give you grace.

I never tried to extend love to you.

I never tried to be the bigger person

I just assumed that I was.

I know you have lived with the same shame as me,

I know that we have battled these monsters all the same.

I know that ghosts that have haunted you have kept me up at night.

If I ever wore your shoes, I don’t think I could pretend anymore;

I couldn’t pretend to be better than you,

I couldn’t pretend to have life figured out.

I can’t pretend I have ever done things right.

What I did was pretend you were the devil.

That was wrong, I’m Sorry.

I created a basement out of forgiveness,

and locked the door with keys of contempt,

I told the whole world I had you go,

but instead I opted to kill myself slowly.

I spent every night sleeping with bitterness,

and when love said she had to leave me,

I convinced myself you had done that.

I held on to that contempt as if it were my life support.

I burned every bridge I had ever built,

and I leaned on a belief that you had hurt me,

as if that were some sort of crutch that justified me.

As if I was a spotless lamb,

as if my frustrations were unique.

I have tried to hate you for so long,

and the longer I try, the more pain I inflict on us both.

I am trying so hard to forgive you.

I beg you to forgive me.

I was wrong, and I am sorry;

please, let’s restart this story.

Our story doesn’t have to be defined by what was unjust.

I want so badly for you to be in my life.

I’m so sorry for every burden I tried to place in your shoulders.

Can you please forgive me?

2 thoughts on “dear friends: an open letter (guest poem).

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