All these weighted apologies spill
from my hands onto the wintered ground
There are moments in the day
when all the quiet burns
and the smoke inhabits these walls
but the possession of this rain
is never enough to wash out these lungs
or dilute this volatile pain
I was never good at speaking
always shied away from crowds
you were never one to stay quiet
always ran toward the loud
A cycle of oscillating seasons
I'm too in love with hating the cold
and far too familiar with the sound of rain but these birds, they're always calling
to new mornings and a sky of gold
and you sit here, waiting to hear your name as I clean up all the spills
from these weighted apologies
and pails of winter rain

i didn't intend
for it to seem pointed
that time the dog
accidentaly ******
on the
     church
              steps

So sometimes, I still double back,
To these little pretty things-
Where I entwine my written words
with depictive new meanings.

Happy birthday, I must first say
To my Albanian commerce kid.
When we met, then when I left, I
always appreciated all you did.
Next comes the apologizes, I'm sure you know what for
The fact that you showed up, for me?
Confirms it even more:

Julia Kruja, you're an incredible person- such a beautiful soul,
Its a blessing to call you 'friend', and remain someone you know.
With unconditional support- unwavering sincerity
whichever way things go.
Despite my lack of clarity, selfishness and pain- you're always there to meet with me, make plans again and again.

You instill this worth back in my soul, by treating me the same- removing judgement from your heart,
Regifting hope inside my brain.

Happy Belated Birthday my friend

Good neighbors, sweet friends, can you forgive me?

In long, still and creeping hours of study,
I can be stern and inaccessible.

My studies tax me to basest function,
resting, weight-like, on my wretched shoulders.
I, too-weary, ebb and at times, tend to
spare few feelings and gall, as if licensed.

Sometimes I go, unwillingly to class,
a melancholy lass. Please, if we talk,
speak gently. I labor under command,
and you may not be answered with reason.

Hereby hangs the tale, ladies just and fair.
Sleep, that dark medicine, has restored me,
my sanity and my better judgment.
Patiently receive my apology
and recall our many fun adventures.

I wish apologies were rewinds
that could go back to that place in time.
& make everything alright.

To go back to that kiss,
In your arms,
And feel blanketed in your warmth...

But instead I think back to that point in time,
Where unfortunately there is no rewind.
Forgiveness is in my heart,
But it also remembers to tread lightly.
It makes me think.

Think about you.
Think about me.
Think about the way things used to be.

I wish apologies could take it all back,
but in reality there are no rewinds.
Thankfully,
Things continuously move forward.
Even with trepedity.

"Take that sorry and swallow it; like the first spit of the morning. 
That holds around your neck by; the grips of life.

Your sorry's are so out of hand.

But does it hold anything, if I'm not touched in the first place,"
I had asked her. But it felt like I was asking myself more of why
I couldn't accept her apologies.

if only you knew all the nights i spent hating myself
for thinking of him while i was with you
if only you knew i barely ate for days
because i couldn't understand why i felt empty every time we kissed
if only you knew the endless apology letters i had written
because i couldn't forgive myself for hurting you
until this day, i still can't

how could you think i never cared
how could you think i never tried
how could you think i purposely had ill intentions
how could you think of me this way,
when all i ever did was **** myself for you
but a million "i'm sorry's" will never repair the damage i've caused

Mother don't cry,
Have I disappointed you?
I know I have.
I know when I have, it ***** that I do.
And I’m sorry
that despite my best efforts,
I am not the child that will check what expectations fill your list,
But rather, am the one that will make you create new ones.