The dangers of humanistic psychology

by ashwinia

As the guilt curls your lips
I look deeper.
I see why
Cause I run back the way you came
I look under every stone,
into every cold eye
in every cottage
all the way.
I see why
Does that absolve you
Or make me an abettor?
I pull you close,
I kiss your eyes
Will you forget the route
And your story?
Or will you let your story
rule the way your lips curl
for always?