Sorry Poems

Litany of Borrowed Sorrows

The sorrows we borrow,
the sorrows we keep—
are debts of the dead,
replayed in our sleep.

Blood writes the tally,
blood writes it in red;
tomorrow collects
what yesterday bled.

The sun drags its shadow.
The sun drags its shroud—
darkness advancing
cowering aloud.

Dry eyes at dawn.
Ashes inbred;
a prayer in the dust,
a prayer for the dead.

The sun flares faintly,
a wound in the sky.
The clouds part

Belittled

#How_belitled_and_demoralized
my intuitiveness turned into a floor door mat, my innate abilities, said to be incompetent, my ego tarnished, worse when the gift I embraced in my palms from birth, as a token of blessing from heaven to this very land of men n creatures, titled whack n premature by a foreign nationalist, whom saw refugee

Sorry

The way you had to be 
It was the way I had to kneeel down,
the waves that we sorted out 
came back to us.
The turning point could have 
been our way to choose.
We didn't take the right one,
only we worsen our life to destruction.
The way you were,  made me feel miserable,
The way you were,

Gargoyle

Gargoyle

Eyes of stone are watching 
High above the ground 
Protecting from the evil
That lingers all around

Why must you old grotesque one
Dwell there all alone
What immortal sin did you commit
That put you on that throne

Somehow I feel a sorrow 
I do not understand
For your are just a creation
Of a sculptures hand

Still something about you moves me
Should

I'm Sorry

I'm sorry about the thorns
I hope that these horns
will one day be left to burn

I've danced to my past mistakes
and now the real me is about to wake,
there's no simmering beauty of a lake
that's full of pollution and waste,
I need to forgive and live the human race

I've come to realize my infliction
is based on my

Inevitable Procession

If you were to ask me
Be the one to catch me, before i take the fall
You'd be the only one waiting, afterall
For whence i open my mouth and
Spill a sea of pills tinged with reddened liquor 
I think you'd listen, then
If i took advice from any voice, it'd say 'give up'
But then again the only

Suspended Faults

I felt as small as a winter’s flower
yet as tall as an old oak tree
the seconds dragged on for what seemed like hours
when my world turned in on me

the cloak I wore was of little comfort
just to bridge between present and past
I held onto this and other secrets
no more a peasant but a king at

Rust

I am a ruined house 
With a rusty fence,
So many phantoms reside resting recklessly,
A clock on the mantelpiece that won't work.  It's stuck staring at me,
Tick………,
The wallpaper is crumbling and fading away like my miserable memories. 
It doesn't seem real even though it is. 
Dreamy, dreary , dread , dead. 
But the fire is

The Hardest Thing To Accept Is Being Understood

The jars were meant to confuse even me —
labels scrawled backward,
dates falsified,
contents misnamed to keep them harmless.

I stacked them like decoys —
rows of false feelings,
the real ones buried deeper,
sealed in wax no hand could open.

Years I have walked these shelves blind,
touching glass like a stranger in my own skin;
aware of the weight,
but never sure what

- Ripped Recollections -

                                                    Sorry
  

I Am Sorry

It was never my intention,
not a conscious decision,
to cause you any level of grief.
Our give and take wasn’t as envisioned.
Blindly, I let you fall between my gaps.

It’s not right or wrong, but fact that
I got lost in a thronged rhythm
recovering from things life had given.
You have always shone a warm light
selflessly bright into my life.

Stern

Truthfully cards on the table

If I died in my sleep tonight,
upon reflection ~
I'd only have one true regret.

Though I tried to make
the most of my time on earth,
of course I've fallen short.

And for that I would be sorry.
I should have done more,
I should have been more,
I should have loved more.

Gifts squandered, time frittered,
thinking of all I could have done,
the

Telling me you love me isn't the same as being sorry

I've seen the underbelly of your persona.

The despise you feel for La Verona.

A hate you spew because I'm a woman.

Hit me again, although you know you shouldn't.

And I know the examples life set before you, 

Didn't show you the conclusions you should have come to .

That when you're upset you should not bruise my body,

And

ruined

I can feel it all burning down,
the walls I painted in soft colors,
the corners I swept clean for company—
they crackle in silence.

Instead of exploring other ruins,
chasing ghosts in forgotten places,
I should stop.
Sit with the dust in my own lungs.
Run my hands along the scorch marks
I never let cool.

There is wreckage here
I never named.
I’ve been walking

A Gold Digger

She appeared like a shadow in silk,
On 57th Street,
Where men lose themselves
Trying to impress ghosts.

Victoria — that was her name.
She smiled not with warmth,
But with calculation.
And I, foolish in my hunger for love,
Mistook her gaze for fate.

She asked if the Rolls-Royce was mine.
I told her it belonged to my boss.
She changed.
The voice that once danced

Read wonderful sorry poetry on the following sub-topics: apology, best friend, boyfriend, brother, cheating, dad, daughter, forgive me, friend, her, hurting, husband, i am, leaving, love, sister, teacher, wife and more.

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