Blue Moon

84) Must I Apologise for Myself?

She sends me away

my dear friend,

scowls across the screen

at passed cigarette smoke ribbons

which I weaved a while ago,

my mouth still, an echo of scars

of wounded fractured bones

of our careful framework.

Steadfast methought

my friend, my dear friend and I

are steadfast methought.

But not as much

it seems. I have done wrong again;

'forgive me, father, for I have sinned,'

mass has droned my head some

and I wonder how much

of a sinner I must be.

Would their god spare a glance for me?

Messages banish me on screen

and oh! for a moment I am stunned

my efforts, my words

are they wasted

on trying to heal you?

my friend, my friend, my dear friend

do not. Please. Send me away

She was going to send me away

because I am 'like that'

(didn't realise I had the ability

                      to disappoint as I have done

didn't realise that I fit the category

       in her eyes.)

Was it really such a surprise, friend?

You do not realise, my friend

how golden you are

how poison I am in your shadow

you do not realise, my friend

that I speak truth,

will you not learn

one day to love yourself

as I try to teach you now?

I fear: I cannot help you, sometimes my friend,

my dear friend, release yourself

of your snare, help me untangle you,

I will try. But you must too.

(11th April 2014)