I'm Sorry

March 5, 2017
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Words fall from my mouth in jest
Like daggers with no purpose
Points sharp, intentions dull
Yet they find your heart
Dead on

I laugh, not seeing, not looking
At the blood drowning your chest
At your glassy eyes
You choke, tugging at the dagger
Wedged deep
And I notice

I blubber on my apologies pushing
My heel into the wound
Did I see you as they dropped from my red hands?
Did I see you when I let them fall?
I did not mean it
My conscience is made of angel feathers
I never meant to harm you, precious you

My actions are blistering
Pressed into coals to feed the fire
My apologies do not heal your punctured heart or revive your glassy eyes
Mountainous fields of misunderstanding
Echo between us as I cradle
Your heart
And grasp your silent, cold hands for forgiveness.

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