Desolate Apology.
It is my sin,
and it is my crime that I loved you,
that I imagined too keenly
things that wither and die like poisoned weeds.
It is the debt I incurred,
weaving and creating dreams that fitfully breathed in stories that soothed me,
creating wounds to rage against the pain.
Here is my desolate apology,
soaked with tears-
tears of anguish,
tears of rage,
tears of yearning
and tears of defeat.
I am sorry.
I am sorry my love was a worthless thing you wanted to hide from.
I am sorry I couldn't understand.
I am sorry...
