people say
saying sorry is hard
but I find it hard
to do anything but
apologize

I’m sorry.

When you find her

She’ll probably tell you all the awful things I’ve done
.
How I stood her in front of a mirror and pointed out everything I hated.

Down to the last atom of her existence.

How I whispered to her every night before she slept that she was unwanted. unloveable. unnecessary. 

How I gave her heart to men I knew would break it.

How I laid her body down for men who made her confuse lust as love.

But knowing her, she won’t tell you any of this.

She’ll hide her stories. 

She won’t show you her scars.

She’ll keep it to herself, locked away in the darkest corner of herself.
This is the place she will visit often.

A place with no windows and one door.
Her palace of pain—
I tricked her into thinking that’s what a home is.

I taught her how to smile too.

To spread her lips wide, so her cheeks pushed her eyes into half-moons. 

Half-lidded truths but full lipped lies.

I taught her how to listen.

Her ears are sharp, cutting your words down to the quick.

She’s searching for the goodbye she thinks is hidden in your words.
She’ll be quiet often, but even though her lips are still, her thoughts are running lightyears in her head.

Most of those thoughts will be about you.

But she’s not thinking about how much you love her.

She’s thinking about how much she loves you and calculating how much that love will hurt her.

Love is an enduring pain and she doesn’t believe it can be anything else.

I did this.

I made her this way.

But these were the lessons that were taught to me. 

I did not have kind teachers, so how could I be nothing but cruel to her?
—A poor apology from myself to You

We were a group of four,           where
We always got into trouble,
One way or another.
We could never be...
"The Good Kids"
For lack of a better term.

Something happened,
However,
To the girl of the group.
It's funny, she said she              did
Have a crush on...
You guessed it.
The talented one.

The other thing was,                  she
Was my sister.
And, although I was...
Worried, I suppose,
She never ditched
The rest of us
For him.

What's funny is,
The crazy one,
Was madly in love...
With her.
He's the one
Who gets us into trouble.
He always wants to...               go
Somewhere, do something.

He's also the one,
With a twisted sense of humor.
And, as a joke,
He said with a foolish grin:
"Play this game of roulette
with me, and whoever wins
gets to keep the princess!"        It
was a simple joke, with a
sinister meaning
Behind it.

We weren't Russian, so
Of course the Talented one
Agreed. It                                     was
A foolish thing,
What the crazy one did next,
But he didn't know better.
He pulled out
His father's old dusty revolver,
And shot Mr.Talent,
Aimed at the head.

It didn't go off.
Mr. Crazy was                              just
Dying of laughter at
Mr.Talent's face of shock.
My heart leaped, but
My mind told me the gun
Wasn't loaded.
It couldn't be loaded.
And by how my sister
Was acting,
She had come to the
Same conclusion.

Then, Mr.Crazy
Shot himself in the head.
It didn't go off, don't worry,
But then he opened the gun,
And let a single bullet fall
To the yellow grass.
He fumed.                                       A
Grasshopper jumped onto
The bullet and quickly
Fled as Mr.Crazy sighed.

"Well, that was no good.
A boring                                        joke,
That was!" He chuckled.
Us three, we were in shock.
Once again.
"How could you do that?"
Mr.Talent screamed while
My sister stared at the bullet
In horror.

Years later,
My sister ditched her
Husband, Mr.Talent,
For the exciting...
Mr.Crazy. I was...
Surprised.                                   I'm
Still surprised.
We were growing apart,
At this time.
I even lost contact
With her.
And Mr.Talent...
Attempted suicide.
With the old revolver.
I don't know how
He got it.
He left a note,
Saying he was                          sorry
To her, and to him,
And to me.

I stayed with him,
As much as I could.
My sister never made
An appearance.                         I'm
Still shocked at that.
Mr.Crazy only returned
To take his gun back.

And, eventually,
Mr.Talent fell into
The only support he could
Find, besides me.
That, was fame. I was                  Not
Surprised, then.

He pushed me away,
Saying he didn't need me.
Which, was a big, fat,
Lie, but at the time,
He convinced me otherwise.
I was moving, and I was             A
Little too far away to
Keep going to his place,
So I did what he wanted,
And stayed away.

The results weren't...                     good.
Reports of him being
Hospitalized, everywhere
I look. I didn't understand
How he didn't die, then.
I do now, but
That's another story.
Every                                                     person
Who knew I knew him would
Talk to me about
Going back to see him.
But I knew the journey
Would be empty.
So, I didn't.

And, as a reward for
Waiting, I suppose,
I was once again invited back
To his friendship.
The next day,
He died.

I took your heart and broke it
Occasionally I offered reprieve and stroked it.
I took it out and poked it.

I did this without intent
I tried so hard not to misrepresent
Scared by my own discontent

My failing not yours.

You are beautiful....

My thoughts lay 'neath the moonlight shine,
Yet the abyss still dark and silent,
The stars hung within the nightly heavens,
Whisper "Shall thou make ammends?"

I sang a song,
She danced upon it,
I did her wrong,
Her graces forgave it,
but she can't forget,
so she went on her way,
oh how much I regret,
now I'm left here in despair.

This is how I feel,
all that I've shared,
thoughts dark enough to ****,
written and told so I would be spared.

If I had two better hands
I'd write out a list of all my plans
But one of them would be crossed out in a red inked pen
Two words that do nothing but weaken my message
How useful is atonement if it doesn't make amends?

It could be my clown teared eyes
Or the masquerade I use to hide
All my riddles and blues are part of a balancing act
I can juggle while I'm crying and say two offense
I must look like such a fool in my angst performance.

But when you speak to me
I slip into a dream like trance
Where poetry makes love to me
And two words are never at the end of every sentence
But you're not the type to let this go
I can feel it when we hold hands
It's so simple to be regretful
But harder to forget.

I know two words
And That's all I ever say
Time is a glass house mime with silent parties within
I bang on every door screaming, "Let me in",
She comes over to the window just to shake her head.

I could change like a fantasy
Pretend I'm a Jester singing to a Queen
Pulling out a veil of blue and green
Charm her with my comedy and ****** her with magic
If I could pull out more words from my sleeve
I would lead with a compliment instead of plead apologetic
Two words are like a hook and I'm caught on them again.

Wallflowers bloom brightest in the cold
I could be picked if I didn't try and control
I know you need peace
And I just need it to snow
Freeze my words and wait for Springs' thaw
I'll wait for you to come and pick a bouquet
I'll look lovely in your window
If I can just stay frozen.

I promise to be more patient
Hold my tongue and count back from three
On my list I'll take two words
And cross them out of my vocabulary
It must not mean that much coming from me
But I got a list of plans
You and I will just have to wait to believe.