Poetry From A Caged Soul

Now I'm Sorry

Now, I am sure it is our own truths we embrace. Our perspective is powerful, because I can stand at the edge of a cliff and still be afraid of heights, or I can marvel at the view, like you used to, and think, I've come pretty damn far from where I started, and I'm going to continue to climb. I have done too much to stop now. I'm sorry. And some of that is because of you. My mind takes me back to places my body cannot follow, and the two remain torn as I drown in a hundred yesterdays I wish had never happened. I'm sorry. The wind is howling memories that were meant to be made but did not come to be. Like rain dripping down the spine of time, it chills me to the bone. I'm sorry. Will our faces ever meet again? Will our fingers ever touch? Or will my life forever taste of whispers burned to ashes; the death of words left unspoken, of my love left unsaid?

Now, I can only apologize so many times before it loses meaning. I'm sorry. But I will apologize every one of those times, even though there are worlds at war in your eyes. Not all of us are a perfect love story because some of us are a revolution, churning, roaring, waiting to erupt. And when we erupt, we lose all sense of who we are and who we hope to be. I'm sorry. My reflection in your war-torn eyes is not how you will find me. We can't just see. We have to hear. I'm sorry. Hear my earnest emotions echoing across my literary labyrinth. I can only yell for so long. You have to listen.

Now, I remember that you swore you would fly me to the heavens. But it seems like skyward took a wrong turn, because now you are the ashes of your feathers while I am mending a sunburn. I'm sorry. What malady is this? It confuses the reality in which I walk. It takes things that were once acceptable and turns them to ash on the wind. This perception of life rewrites my heart, repurpose the soul. I'm sorry. The flavor of new feelings from old emotions wrap the folds of my mind in new color. Maybe all the sand castles we built were just distractions to hide the ocean I was meant to swim in. I'm sorry. I never realized the sand castles meant so much to you, fragile though they were. We built them together, until I tore them down under the moon. But the moon sees us for exactly what we are. Tiny, vulnerable, weak, lost. Perfectly imperfect. But absolutely capable of reaching the stars that surround her.

Now, I scribble tainted words as I struggle with my dented soul. We're drained every day, and yet somehow, we regain our compulsion to always write something tomorrow. It seems all I can write though, are the words "I'm sorry." What I'm trying to say is you were strong enough to fight your own battles, but you still needed someone to hold you when you lost. And it was never me. I'm sorry. I feel more than I think. I speak more than I listen. I lose faith constantly and I can't seem to pick myself up after I fall.

Now, I open my eyes, staring at the sun amidst the clear, blue sky. I know it is only a star, but I swear it is you. It feels just like you. I'm sorry. I always wait for ever shooting star that falls from the weight of my unfulfilled wishes. I wait for them to come and I wait for you so I can apologize. I'm sorry. For all those nights I never showed. For all those days I just didn't care.

Now, you have to understand, not everyone loves like you do. Some love so strong yet show less because they are afraid to lose. But you, you are the exact opposite. I'm sorry. You wear your heart on your sleeve and you put everything on the table. You are afraid to lose, but you know you will heal. Because no matter how much is taken, you always have more to give. That is how you love. But I am so different. I'm sorry. I have put nothing on the table and my heart is firmly tucked away. I am terrified of losing. I'm sorry. I know now that I am just a bookmark in your life, a placeholder where we left off. Sidelined until my apologies reach you. You leave me tucked between the pages, held by promises that you will hear me out this time. You never get around to it though, because you are moving through life at your own pace, enjoying it alone.

Now, I have forgiven myself. I'm sorry. So I can forgive you to create new spaces for hope, optimism, and mercy inside this body. I can heal and grow like a wild hibiscus in the jungle, uniting with the trees while saving grace. And finally, I can stop apologizing. I'm sorry.