Sorry
I know you’re sorry, I do.
You said it not once but twice last night.
Actually no, you said it like 10 times.
And another five this morning,
So I know you’re sorry, I do.
I know you feel the sting of your actions
And the bitterness of your words.
I know you heard it when they rattled
Your brain so loud all night
You threw them up on the bathroom floor.
I know you know you’re guilty
And you wore redemption to work today.
You bathed your body with the syllables of reproach
And you couldn’t leave the house
Without hearing my voice.
I know you searched around and plucked the pipeline
To put me on top of the priority list.
“It’s your day today,” you said.
You “won’t” leave me alone.
So I know you’re sorry, I do.
But that doesn’t mean I forgive you.
You stained my smoke with fire
And then you left me there to burn.
Your bullets are still stitched in my skin and every inch
Is drenched in the stench of your interruptions and judgements.
Because at the height of my darkest hour,
I chose your comfort and you chose my despair.
So I know you’re sorry, I do.
But my feet are still on fire
And I don’t know what to do.
Should I feel what I’m feeling?
Should I even feel this much
For you?
Should I let it go like I did the others?
Should I talk it out and problem-solve?
Should I soothe myself and forget about comfort
And support and love I thought would hold through?
I know you’re sorry, I do.
But my pain is far greater
Than even you.
