You will die and I am sorry.
I will die and I hope you will be sorry, too.
I and you and so will she,
And so he will and so and so sorry.
We will breathe and our breath will
catch.

Fill your lungs with your hand on your belly,
it may be the last time.

They and we will breathe until we don't.
It is many days the only thing she can do
to keep from sinking.
One day you will sink and I will be
sorry for not holding your hand tightly enough.
For not saying "Say that again but let me look into your eyes this time."
Sorry so many hands held your head down instead
of pulling you through.

I cut a cucumber wrong and I bled.
So sorry he is so fragile, the skin is so soft.
We are so soft, so gentle, so wet on
the other side of the skin.
He is so sorry he is so soft he should have
been sorry should have been harder than
the asphalt harder than his anger
he should have been sorry so
soft so vulnerable so much
softer than his heart.

You will bleed and I am sorry.
We will bleed and ache from the sun and from
invisible beings we are just starting to
understand.
Understand she is just as soft as you.
Understand she also breaks so much so
easily under pressure under the weight of
your femur.
Understand that not a single one of us has
been loved enough and will still rip
when you drag us along the highway.

I caught the table with my thigh and
my skin bloomed with a sick purple puddle but
it could have been his boot or his baton.
Or his fist or his gun or his so so sorry heart.
Life is so hard and I am sorry.
I am sorry that we are the problem,
that you cannot fill your lungs and
feel her drowning. I am so sorry that
you are too angry to feel your own weak
fleshy body over the under, that you are
too hard so detached from your softness,
that you have been loved so little that
you have become so little in the face of fear.

He and she and we are dead and I am sorry.
That the people that prey think they
are too hard to bleed and that they will
never read this and never learn about
their own softness. I am sorry that we are
killing ourselves instead of lions or
old age or some disease that you can only
get from breathing too deeply.

I never looked you in the eye and held
your hand and listened to you breathe
and I am sorry.

i wish you could see him how i see him
in the early morning without my glasses
blurred around the edges
buttoning his shirt with eyes half-open
or with one hand on the steering wheel
focused mostly on the red light
but also on the garden caught
between the synapses in his mind
i wish you could see him how i see him
storm clouds tumbling in his eyes
also rolling overhead
and the mercury falls ten degrees
and the skies break and he pours out
and my cup runneth over
i wish you could see him how i see him
at once a child lost in the grocery store
and a king on horseback charging into battle
at once a boulder with moss on the north side
and a wet, ****** heart
i wish you could see him how i see him

I knew you were home
Before you walked in the door
There's no room for you here sweetie
I'm so sorry sweetie
I had to send you away before
You unpacked your bags
You won't be happy here sweetie
I'm so sorry sweetie

Me and the other girls
We woke up at dawn
We carried you to the river sweetie
The weight of you was pressing
Heavy footprints in the dirt
We waited for the boat man
To take you back sweetie

Me and the other girls
We didn't really want to
But we did what we had to sweetie
It's really what was best
As the boat man pulled you
From my arms sweetie
A dozen and a half roses took your place

Me and the other girls
We left a rose wherever we rested
On our journey back home sweetie
Our feet were lighter
But our hearts were heavier
We dropped rose petals for days
We will drop tears for the rest of our lives
Sweetie

Every day I rise from the ashes
of my own pack of Marlboros
and climb, fingernails cracked and bleeding
clawing for the next hold,

higher higher higher.

I look down and see my feet
inches above the ground
and collapse in cold flame
backward on the bed.

@myex
u think im selfish
#sorry
i guess it is pretty selfish
to expect to not get *****
while u sleep
#sorrynotsorry

my dog lies on the concrete patio
pink belly up
the fresh alabama sun cooking the air
draped solid over us like a wet blanket.

he is not part of my reality
he cares not for tardiness
or three-day-leg-stubble
or cleaning the lint trap.

i ache to be a part of his
pink belly up
only stirring to watch the children
play across the street.

legends in our flesh
we are our scars
ancient mythology in constellations
can you read my fate
in my banged up knuckles
unlock my secrets
oracle of wounds