Sorry

Sorry


When you called, your dusky voice
hesitating. Waiting for the clock
to strike one, I felt astonished.
Your abandonment from my life
was a relief, not some searing scar,
and suddenly you’re back, like a thrusting
thorn, a reminder that ghosts
do leave shadows.

I’m sorry, you stated peevishly.
I was expecting the word, And?,
But I remain constantly cautious,
afraid that I will somehow release
that demonic dragon, the one that crashes
through willowy walls, and shatters
pane glass windows, the shards
cutting me in the jugular.

Your lack of introspection
was not so much surprising,
as an abomination, because you never take
care of the futile feelings you slash
along the way. I have picked
myself up since you left,
glued all the pieces together
to make a whole, the hollowness
that remained now filled
with months of salty therapy
and bitter tears.

And, I affirm.
And what, you reply.
You’re sorry, and?
There I paused.
Nothing had really changed.

I am back to building cement walls
with prickly gates, and a musky moat,
to keep you at bay as I fly
to the moon, or possibly any puzzling
place you will not inhabit.
Allowing you back in only provides
anxious nights and breathless days,
and while I accept your apology,
you just are not worth the risk.