A fit of childish pique
Perhaps anger at growing up
Whatever, I do not know,
Knowing that an explanation
Will never justify
The fact that you read my diary.
Thirteen year old secrets
Blurted out
To the world
Confidences tossed and traded
Whispered,
Laughed at.
I swore not to forgive.
Vowed never to trust you again.
Another thirteen years later
Tried vainly to justify
Another such breach of trust
Another reading of a diary
Not broadcast or mocked
But my feelings questioned
My motives suspected
And I endured
To keep
A relationship that was not.
I forgave him
I found I could.
But you I do not forgive.
I cannot.
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