Before you’ve finished speaking,

I can feel it washing over me

bile climbing up my throat

lips pursed with apologies 

“I’m sorry!”

I stammer syllables without knowing

what wrong I have committed.


Your eyes, so fierce and fiery

they singe my soul

they brand me like a hot poker

I cower in fear, cornered by regret

“I’m so sorry.”

My words are as worthless

as empty bottles

to someone dying of thirst in the desert.

I grasp at anything, a semblance of forgiveness

next time, next time,

next time it will be different.

I will be better, I swear!

And yet you are as cold as stone

a statue upon whose feet I weep.


Because the truth is, I tried

I tried so hard to please you,

to win that elusive grin

and be able to call it my own.

But trying to please you

is like trying to run into a wall

hoping it will open into platform 9 and three quarters.

I’ve ran into that wall so many times

my foggy mind can’t even remember

what I’m doing anymore.

The End

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