Whispers of a Silent Fall

Lest there be a Trail

I'm sorry for my existing,
my wicked breathing of air,
the flowers I have crushed beneath,
and worn lifted in my hair.

For the words that slipped from my eyes and rattled down my cheek,
for the cold that seeped into my bones,
and the warmth that seemed to leave yours.

I'm sorry for the pain my lips brought,
the poison that slept within,
the fire that burned like frostbite,
and for that it burned you up inside.

For the secrets that cracked and spilled their contents,
know my seal wasn't easily broken,
that it was twisted and smashed,
until finally broken and released.

I'm sorry for my presence in the room that takes up too much space,
for the footsteps I left in the snow,
for the soul knows no words.