Penitent one, pitiful soul.
It's hard to apologise whilst you're stood inside a house of echoes.

my dearest
apologies
that the recent poems plaguing my page
are nearly as much of a disappointment
as myself
**

I want to start off by telling you that there have been days I can't remember my own name, but I could never forget yours. You used to look at me with a way that made me remember to drink more water and do whatever it takes to stay here, but now I'm just ashamed of where I am. I never wanted this to be my fault. You and I both know that.
One day, I will find someone who loves the way I stutter when I'm nervous and they'll kiss me whenever I say I hate the way it sounds.
I don't think that anyone ever really understood who I was. I'm a different person for everyone but you were the closest I ever got to being myself. I never felt my mask when I was with you.
I thought I would be okay with you but I find myself still crying into my coffee and turning off my music when certain songs come on. No amount of poetry or metaphors could ever make this pain beautiful, all it's really done is help distract me.
All I wanted to do was hold your hand so tightly that you regretted the night you stopped believing in love.
Let's talk about being gentle. You were never gentle with me. I had a dream that you caressed my face and I woke up crying. Your abuse has scarred me so much that the thought of you raising your hand to me is more realistic than a kiss. I wanted to be gentle with you everyday, even on the days you couldn't find it in you to be gentle with yourself. I wanted to be your home. I wanted to love you in every way there is to love a person and you only want to love me when I'm in your sheets. I think that my chest is a graveyard of all of the versions of myself I killed while trying to be a better person for you.
Do not ever let anyone tell you that home can't be a lonely place because sometimes home is a person who doesn't want you around anymore. Homes burn down every day, but there was something deadly about the way I woke up and decided I didn't love you anymore.
Let's go back. The first night I saw you smile I started praying to a god I stopped believing in years ago. We were in a Taco Bell drive thru. The night that you held my thigh in my car was the first time I hadn't wanted to crash it in forever. I can still hear Come As You Are by Yuna play in the background and the way you said you liked the song. I can't listen to that song anymore.
I'm so sorry for leaving. I'm terrified that there will never be an end to this mess and you're the only thing that never scared me about forever. The worst part of all of this is I'll probably spend the next few years trying to love someone how I loved you. It'll take me a while to heal from the emotional abuse and turmoil you've put me through this past year and a half. It's been a wild ride. I don't regret you. I knew you were a snake when I licked you up and it's my fault for sticking around after countlessly being bitten. You've shown me more about myself than I will ever learn with anyone else.
Your hands are so sharp, all I wanted was to hold them till you became gentle with me again.
I'm sorry. I love you.
Savanna.

I'm sorry
But this song will be
My deepest apology
From someone like me

I should've treated you better
Not that kind of girl who
Give thorns from words in my songs
If you'd read this letter
I hope you'll feel better

I'm your cactus friend
Who tries to hug you
But instead
Give thorns that made you bled

I'm sorry I'm waving good bye
But this will help you fly high
So go chase that dream
And forget that I have lived

I'm your cactus friend
Don't worry this soon will end
I'm sorry if I'd hurt you badly
You'll soon be sleeping soundly

I just wanna say I'm sorry
And thank you
My dearest friend
It's me your cactus friend

i have nothing left to lose
and so much more to gain

Life flows on
Even if we are stagnant.
Through all it will travel,
Harboring our emotions
And our experiences.

Nothing lasts forever,
But anything good
Is worth trying to keep close.

'Actually, my friend in Taranaki makes the stars. I combine them with my own elements and string them into garlands,' wrote Makery. There was an element of apology about her words. As if she’d been rumbled. As if someone had confirmed the voice of self-doubt that whispered in her ear, 'Who do you think you are, calling yourself an artisan?'

Stringing things together is applied artistry - whether it be words, Scandi-style stars, or fairytale mushrooms threaded on candy coloured twine. We are all hunter-gatherers who construct our creations from discovered elements. Some transmute received knowledge into constructed knowledge. Others beachcomb lexica for found syncretic treasures. All aspire to contribute to the infinite compendium of human self-expression, to create something which says, 'This is who I am.' With the silent addendum, 'I hope you like it.'

I think its time to have a talk,
A walk over the rubble of once tall walls,
That held a heart so heartless captive,
Lost in halls of raw cobbled things,
That were never really feelings, just things,

Things I need to say, to go over,
All in the name of bless-ed closure,
So sorry that I drove her so far away,
These bereft words, scribbled on a digital page,

Will never convey the dismay of this shipwrecked man,
Who crafted an island by his own hands,
Where he made himself ******,
Where he made his last stand,

But no ending ever came,
Just waves upon waves,
Of drowned dreams and half dead sorrows,
Awaiting death on every tomorrow,
Death that never came,