you've never liked when people say
"i'm sorry" because
what are they apologizing for?
that they thought time was
more important than love, and
so they pushed you away from
their beaten path?
that they left you with the sickly sweet of jellybeans on your tongue and
rough salt on your cheeks?
that they made you feel like the
smashed corsage you saw at the
bus stop this morning, roses and
carnations scattered by wind
and hurrying feet?
that they never held you, never
told you what to do when you bled or cried or
fell in love, god forbid, with someone
too perfect to be good for you?
that they were never enough for
your hungry heart
and the way it devoured them
without a second thought just
made you want more?
that they apologized until their
throats were raw
and meant it a little less every time?
yeah, maybe they should be sorry.
after all, they never really took
the blame.
it was always you.
it makes you wonder
when you pass people on the street
how many times have they
really been sorry?
YOU ARE READING
sonder
Poetrysonder - n. the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own. they will go home to parents or husbands or wives or children or maybe just an empty room, and they will think about their problems the same way...
