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A Cup of Forgiveness MAG
i could go for a cup of forgiveness tonight,
but i suppose i'll go hungry instead;
nothing else will do.
i'm sorry i was cussing at you, momma
all the other words sputtered
out of my mouth and my brakes were worn
to nothing. besides, good girls always
answer, and i don't know what's
wrong with me but it's not that.
i'm sorry i wrinkled all the clothes, momma,
the ones you just pulled out of the dryer
for me. i crunched them in my hands and tossed with
bad aim. i put them all up for you.
i'm sorry you didn't believe me, momma
laughing while my eyes cracked like old pottery pitchers.
when did kindness leak out of your
into a sticky puddle of ambition?
i'm sorry i made you scold me, momma,
but i can't earn my keep anymore. this
ended and i have no more proof to bring home,
no one to tell you i was worth it.
i'm sorry i pursed my lips, momma.
our words aren't the grand solution, the
and i'm tired of fighting but it fills the house, an animal
decaying under floorboards with a stench
we can't wash out.
i'm sorry i won't tell them, momma:
the why because i couldn't help you
what was dripping down my face and
i don't think they ever will.
i'm sorry i covered my head in my knees, momma,
but i couldn't see a thing and i always lose
staring contests with regret. it doesn't matter anyway:
you and i haven't got souls to show.
i'm sorry i ran off, momma,
but i had to get lost so i could be found again. i need
somewhere to store my bones before i
i don't think i'm coming back.
i'm sorry you'll never see this, momma.