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Jim Mar 2015
I’ve done ill; I’ve done bad
B̶u̶t̶ ̶I̶ ̶d̶o̶ ̶n̶o̶t̶ ̶r̶e̶g̶r̶e̶t̶ ̶a̶n̶y̶t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶
B̶e̶c̶a̶u̶s̶e̶ ̶i̶t̶'̶s̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶
So I had to say sorry
A̶n̶d̶ ̶i̶t̶ ̶m̶a̶k̶e̶s̶ ̶m̶e̶ ̶d̶a̶m̶n̶ ̶s̶i̶c̶k̶
Because it’s the right thing to do
E̶v̶e̶n̶ ̶i̶f̶ ̶I̶’̶m̶ ̶n̶o̶t̶ ̶r̶e̶a̶l̶l̶y̶ ̶s̶o̶r̶r̶y̶
A̶b̶o̶u̶t̶ ̶e̶v̶e̶r̶y̶t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶
T̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶h̶a̶s̶ ̶h̶a̶p̶p̶e̶n̶e̶d̶ ̶
And I’m guilty for committing
An unwritten crime; so, “I’m sorry”
M̶a̶y̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶s̶o̶l̶e̶m̶n̶l̶y̶ ̶g̶o̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶h̶e̶l̶l̶
I’m glad you have forgiven me
I̶’̶d̶ ̶b̶e̶ ̶g̶l̶a̶d̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶i̶f̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶h̶a̶v̶e̶n̶’̶t̶
For now, my heart is light;
no burden to carry.
T̶h̶e̶r̶e̶ ̶w̶a̶s̶ ̶n̶o̶ ̶b̶u̶r̶d̶e̶n̶ ̶a̶t̶ ̶a̶l̶l̶,̶ ̶a̶c̶t̶u̶a̶l̶l̶y̶.̶
I̶ ̶d̶o̶ ̶n̶o̶t̶ ̶r̶e̶g̶r̶e̶t̶ ̶a̶n̶y̶t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶.̶ ̶
B̶e̶c̶a̶u̶s̶e̶ ̶i̶t̶ ̶w̶a̶s̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶;̶ ̶
M̶a̶y̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶g̶o̶t̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶h̶e̶l̶l̶.̶
THANK YOU!!!
D̶i̶e̶!̶ ̶S̶l̶u̶t̶!̶ ̶D̶i̶e̶!̶
For giving me a chance.
D̶i̶e̶ ̶s̶l̶o̶w̶l̶y̶ ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶p̶a̶i̶n̶f̶u̶l̶l̶y̶!̶ ̶
I̶ ̶a̶m̶ ̶n̶o̶t̶ ̶s̶o̶r̶r̶y̶ ̶
A̶b̶o̶u̶t̶ ̶
A̶n̶y̶t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶
And being your friend again.
This poem is about someone who accepts reconciliation towards an enemy. The words in strikethrough are his real thoughts.
Jim Feb 2015
Then one fateful day, an event
Made its way to our ajar doors
"She is no longer here!
 She is here no more!"
The loose bolted chairs
And the dusty summer chairs
Lost protoplasmic breaths.
While the papers she marked
With her utterly critical hands -
That fateful day took with it,
"She is no longer here!
She is here no more!"
And we are left with a misfit piece
And we are dying of yearn
"What about US her fam'ly?
 When is she bound to return?"
 But that fateful day stressed a score -
That she was no longer here
And that she was here no more
My very first poem published here on Hello Poetry. Yey!
  Feb 2015 Jim
qi
my love and devotion for you
was a wavering candle light
held to my chest to shield
from a wicked wild wind
it dripped wax onto my unsteady hands
scalding my fingertips
a foreign burn seeping into my skin

(my love) became my sole source of comfort;
a wooden fireplace
in the depth of a cold Chicagoan winter
thawed my heart of ice
and you breathed life into my lungs

every time you beamed at me
I  found myself
falling in love with your smile
'til I had seen that same lopsided grin of yours
flashed to someone else

and so,
the fire in my soul gave way
to waves after waves of relentless jealousy
that which pounded
against the shores of my heart
carved away gaping crevices
in the jagged ridges of my ribcage

in one final encore
black acrid flames returned in full force
as I clawed off
my flesh and bone
tearing at the itchiness in my blood
and the taste
of iron in the back of my throat

here I am
another one of your victims
with third-degree burns

my nerves are burnt beyond repair;
I no longer feel anything for you
goodbye.

— The End —