Should have stopped

when i felt the first tug,

But i went on flinting,

till the flames kindled.

All that happened was,

a fool-hardy over-reaction,

me going way too blind,

and throwing my head over heels.

But when the rip is small

and the wounds are fresh;

We can melt the ice,

and prevent the wilt.

It will be hard,

but i'm sure not impossible,

to join without a crack,

tie without a knot.

I'm sure its possible,

but to sound a clap,

you have to be the other hand,

join me at the yolk.

Can you bury the hatchet?

Can you forgive me?

For seeing the glitter, and beleiving its gold,

for falling for the mirage.

   --I'm really sorry...