God the taste was foul, bitter bile that didn't even come up all the way.

It just sat there in the back of my throat,
Burning out even more unspoken words.

"This isn't like me," I say to the reflection as I hover over the toilet.

"No, this isn't my life. This isn't me"
My mind can't even wrap around everything I did,
Everything I said.

The acid from my stomach could never be punishment
When compared to the torment inside my heart.

I know all too well
How useful "sorry" is
When it comes to making amends.

Not Very.