"apologizing" poems
There is one thing that ought to be taught in all the colleges,
Which is that people ought to be taught not to go around always making apologies.
I don't mean the kind of apologies people make when they run over you or borrow five dollars or step on your feet,
Because I think that is sort of sweet;
No, I object to one kind of apology alone,
Which is when people spend their time and yours apologizing for everything they own.
You go to their house for a meal,
And they apologize because the anchovies aren't caviar or the partridge is veal;
They apologize privately for the crudeness of the other guests,
And they apologize publicly for their wife's housekeeping or their husband's jests;
If they give you a book by Dickens they apologize because it isn't by Scott,
And if they take you to the theater, they apologize for the acting and the dialogue and the plot;
They contain more milk of human kindness than the most capacious diary can,
But if you are from out of town they apologize for everything local and if you are a foreigner they apologize for everything American.
I dread these apologizers even as I am depicting them,
I shudder as I think of the hours that must be spend in contradicting them,
Because you are very rude if you let them emerge from an argument victorious,
And when they say something of theirs is awful, it is your duty to convince them politely that it is magnificent and glorious,
And what particularly bores me with them,
Is that half the time you have to politely contradict them when you rudely agree with them,
So I think there is one rule every host and hostess ought to keep with the comb and nail file and bicarbonate and aromatic spirits on a handy shelf,
Which is don't spoil the denouement by telling the guests everything is terrible, but let them have the thrill of finding it out for themselves.
23.7k
"This girlchild was born as usual
and presented dolls that did ******
and miniature GE stoves and irons
and wee lipsticks the color of cherry candy.
Then in the magic of puberty, a classmate said:
You have a great big nose and fat legs.
She was healthy, tested intelligent,
possessed strong arms and back,
abundant ****** drive and manual dexterity.
She went to and fro apologizing.
Everyone saw a fat nose on thick legs.
She was advised to play coy,
exhorted to come on hearty,
exercise, diet, smile and wheedle.
Her good nature wore out
like a fan belt.
So she cut off her nose and her legs
and offered them up.
In the casket displayed on satin she lay
with the undertaker's cosmetics painted on,
a turned-up putty nose,
dressed in a pink and white nightie.
Doesn't she look pretty? everyone said.
Consummation at last.
To every woman a happy ending."
-Marge Piercy
Sep 23, 2016
Sep 23, 2016 at 10:08 AM UTC
for seven years i believed that i had no right to say
that i had been abused because it wasn't physical,
like my friend who was beat by her drunk father on
a daily basis.
my abuse was only on an emotional, psychological scale
and while sometimes his hand slipped or gripped too tight on me,
i honestly wouldn't count it as abuse.
recently i began reading into this and while it's not
as talked about as physical or ****** abuse it still counts
and it carries over as children grow up from these experiences.
even experiences that i didn't think counted as emotional abuse,
from times when i was far younger than just a teenager.
the abuse i've dealt with hasn't made me any stronger than i was,
it's made me the exact opposite;
instead of being the person i was before, bright and optimistic,
i'm apologizing constantly for things i don't need to and
second guessing myself and others intentions.
constantly i wonder if i'm bothering someone,
am i being too much of myself? am i allowed to speak?
does my opinion matter? is it all right to assert myself?
after being told for three years that i don't matter,
and there is no point of me for existing and that
it's no wonder i don't have any friends,
i'm trying to break myself out of the box i've placed myself in
and it's so **** hard.
Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 2:17 AM UTC
Dear Math,
I wrote this letter to let you know how I feel about you. The thing is much as you love me so much, we can never be an Item when all you do is torture my brain and break my heart.
You claim to be a linguist, yet you know none of my languages. You don't know Kiswahili neither do you know English and only speak Algebra and statistics...I loathe you for all you do is play on my mind with words like Sigma and Meu, factorial and co-factor.You claim you want to be the only one but still ask me to find your X without even telling me Y.Well, grow up and solve your own problems because I'm tired of solving them for you.Just walk out of my life forever and not temporarily like the dew. You have hurt me enough with razors of matrices, pinched me simultaneously and never asked me whether I believed in your ancient beliefs like those of Pythagoras or not. We were never meant to be. I found a new one, her name is literature and she loves me so much.I won't apologize for saying I hate you because It's unfair apologizing for saying the truth.
Yours with anger
Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 1:44 PM UTC
I remember our first kiss
It was an accident & you
wouldn't stop apologizing
because you had one past
too many to drink
You were broken like a
shattered glass bowl filled
with your favorite kind of
cereal & way too much milk
As it fell to the floor, your
heart dropped just as fast,
immediately realizing that
this couldn't be undone
You'd have to clean up all
of the glass & soggy bits of
sugary flakes from the floor
all by yourself with no help
You cursed to yourself through
clenched teeth & a closed jaw,
tears daring to escape your eyes
like the milk pouring & dripping
over the sides of the broken bowl
You swore off cereal all together
because the agony of possibly
breaking another bowl had
your head & heart in a whirl
of confusion & annoyance
Slowly as you began to pick the
broken pieces of glass from the floor,
piece after piece being thrown away,
this task you found a chore
becomes more of a necessity
that you didn't realize until
the big mess was already created
Wiping up the chunks of sugar
& tossing them in the trash,
a small smile curls at the
corners of your mouth
Pain runs through your veins,
but relief washes over your core
as you realize the worst is over
The kiss that I remember
was not of regret, but beauty
I'm on this sugar high &
I'm not sure I can come down
But you don't want cereal anymore
so I'll eat this bowl alone
May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 11:21 AM UTC
WELL I APOLOGIZE FOR BEING INSECURE
I APOLOGIZE FOR WISHING TO HEAR SOMETHING THAT I HONESTLY FIND HARD TO BELIEVE FFS I KNOW I'M ANNOYING AND I KNOW I'M CLINGY AND I KNOW I CARE WAY TO MUCH ABOUT SOMEONE WHO DOESN'T CARE BACK
I APOLOGIZE FOR HAVING A HEART THE SIZE OF THE MOON
I APOLOGIZE THAT YOU TOOK A SPACE SHIP AND LEFT YOUR MARK ON IT!
I APOLOGIZE FOR WANTING FOR ONCE IN A LONG TIME TO FEEL LIKE SOMEONE ACTUALLY CARES
I APOLOGIZE FOR WANTING TO TALK TO YOU FOR MORE THEN TEN MINUTES
I APOLOGIZE FOR CARING
I APOLOGIZE FOR WANTING TO HEAR WHAT YOU HAVE TO SAY
I APOLOGIZE FOR HANGING OFF YOUR WORDS BECAUSE I FIND THEM AMAZING
I APOLOGIZE FOR MESSAGING YOU A COUPLE TIMES IN A ROW BECAUSE NO ONE ELSE TAKES THE TIME TO EVEN LOOK INTO MY HEART AND CARE WHAT I THINK
I APOLOGIZE FOR CARING ABOUT YOUR OPINION
I APOLOGIZE FOR WANTING A STRAIGHT ANSWER FOR ONCE INSTEAD OF UP AND DOWN ROLLER COASTER **** WHERE ONE DAY YOU MAKE ME THINK YOU CARE THEN THE NEXT IGNORE ME LIKE IM A ******* BEE IN YOUR EAR.
I APOLOGIZE FOR ALWAYS BEING THE FIRST TO MESSAGE YOU
I APOLOGIZE FOR PRETENDING TO NOT BE HURT WHEN YOU GIVE ME ONE WORD RESPONSES
I APOLOGIZING FOR KNOWING YOU HAVE DEPRESSION AND KNOWING IT SOMETIMES EFFECTS YOU BUT I CANT TAKE NOT KNOWING IF I AM JUST A BOTHER
I APOLOGIZE I NOTICE WHEN YOU DROP AWAY LIKE A BIRD SHOT OFF A TELEPHONE LINE
I APOLOGIZE FOR GIVING A **** AND FEELING LIKE MAYBE JUST ******* MAYBE YOU MIGHT FEEL THE SAME
I APOLOGIZE FOR NOT BEING WHAT YOU WANT
I APOLOGIZE FOR ASSUMING YOU HAVE OTHERS BUT WITH MY PAST HOW COULD I NOT?!?!
I APOLOGIZE FOR SEEING HINT TRACES OF COMPASSION IN YOU THAT MAKES ME FALL HEAD OVER HEELS FOR YOU
I APOLOGIZE FOR NOT BEING OKAY EVERY DAY
I APOLOGIZE FOR NOT ALWAYS KNOWING WHAT TO SAY OR HOW TO SAY WHAT I WANT TO SAY
I APOLOGIZE FOR CARING.
I APOLOGIZE FOR WANTING TO READ MORE INTO YOU
I APOLOGIZE FOR WANTING TO KNOW THE REAL YOU
I APOLOGIZE FOR WANTING TO GET BEHIND YOUR MASK
I APOLOGIZE FOR READING INTO THE SIGNS WRONG BUT THEY LOOK LIKE A FOREIGN LANGUAGE.
I APOLOGIZE FOR BEING HUMAN
AND LASTLY
I APOLOGIZE FOR APOLOGIZING FOR WHAT I DIDN'T DO WRONG.
Sep 18, 2014
Sep 18, 2014 at 6:35 PM UTC
People always tell me that the tiredness will go away with a lot of sleep and the right date
Eight hour nights have become imaginary bliss when my eyelids are clouded by your image
I told myself that I wouldn't date because you put your hands up my shirt in a bathroom one afternoon
That didn't let me sleep
Who is to say a boy would allow that type of peace
The closest I've come to sleep was when you tried to teach me to dance
I couldn't help but laugh when you taught me to turn during a waltz
Dancing is never a dying girl's forte
This tiredness has yet to go away and I'm running out of options
Old methods of waking are failing me in a way you never have
Tiredness comes from my lack of loving you the way I want to
Your hand on my leg would always bring a nice about of rest
Sitting outside for lunch is easier for you when the circumstances call for ignoring it all
AND ACCORDING TO THEM, YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO TOUCH ME ANYMORE SO WE HAVE TO HIDE IT AWAY AND THIS IS STARTING TO FEEL LIKE I'M JUST A PASSING PHASE AND I WANT TO BE MORE THAN JUST A NOTCH IN YOUR BEST POST BECAUSE YOU ARE MUCH MORE THAN A LINE IN A SONG AND THAT'S SAYING A LOT FOR A WRITER LIKE ME.
Apologizing is becoming a strong suit of mine
"Sorry"s keep spilling from my mouth because I want you
I'm sorry I let the tiredness eat me away a year ago
I'm sorry I want it to consume me now
I'm sorry for loving you the way I do
I'm sorry for being so tired.
But, darling.
I'm.
Just.
Tired.
Feb 5, 2014
Feb 5, 2014 at 9:40 PM UTC
I know you probably won’t be able to read this bit of my soul, but I just wanted to say that up until now, I’ve crossed an uncountable number of lines. To other people, it may seem like I make a big deal out of minuscule things, but as a human, I’ve made many, many mistakes..but, I’m not one to forgive myself. I’m the kind who fits herself into the stereotypes ones boxed into.
I’m the “nerd”, “the mute”; “quiet kid”, “the hopeless romantic”, and every other category they box me into. I don’t fight back. I don’t look them in the eye. I just sit there with my head drooped, silently wishing to go by unnoticed, because the truth is..I’m afraid. I’m afraid of what they might say back. I’m afraid of messing up, I’m afraid, I’m afraid, I’m afraid. But most of all..I’m afraid of their words. I’m afraid of their words because what they might say back is unknown. By the time I wait, the words just melt underneath my tongue, and all that’s left is the uncertainty.
Through my experiences, I learned that I don’t need to be afraid. I learned that people can be harsh sometimes, but it’s not my fault. There’s nothing wrong with me. The only person who was wrong, was the person who thought they had power over me. The power to change my mind, to make me think that I’m not worth it. That I’m not worth it..?
Then came these seven angels..
They taught me to love myself, little by little, everyday. My world turned right side up, and there was nothing left to lose. Back before then, I remember not bothering to look both ways before crossing the street, because I thought, there was no good reason to live. I was wrong. I slowly started to realize my worth, I wasn’t what people said I was, because the only definition they were giving, was a reflection of themselves. I mean sure not everything was perfect from then on since, but I still continued to love myself because of these seven men from South Korea who had such an impact on me, that I could never forget.
From then on, I was the girl who didn’t let labels stop her from being her own self, I was the girl who kicked open the box of stereotypes she was stuck in for a long time. I was the girl who stopped apologizing for the things she did right. I was the girl who never stopped dreaming. But most of all..I am now the girl who’s not alone. I have these seven brave handsome looking knights and an entire “ARMY” after all.
Apr 19, 2021
Apr 19, 2021 at 10:50 PM UTC
"heavy breathing/hot breath.
hands touching/warm skin.
why did i do this."
i had to stand on the tips of my toes
just so i could reach your lips.
arms encircled me, keeping me safe.
this can't be real.
"we looked into each other's eyes
and her breath still lingers on my skin.
i shiver.
she clung to me tightly, as if she was scared."
i have ruined the best thing that has happened to me.
"she had to tell everyone of this.
this was meant for us only.
why share this moment with the world.
why did i let her do this.
she's already happy, playing me like a game of cards.
one mistake turned into regret."
i'm so sorry.
this secret was something i couldn't bear.
carrying the weight like atlas.
your body was my map that my finger traced,
leading me to a secret location.
i have revealed its existence.
"those eyes that i thought were innocent
have become guilty (i was betrayed).
how could i live with this."
i wanted you.
"she wanted to use me."
i'm sorry.
"she'll say sorry as much as she wants; she'll pay."
'one mistake turned into regret.'
"keep apologizing, that isn't the price i want."
i'd do anything.
"she wouldn't do anything.
she's got other guys.
****
find someone you actually love."
but you're the one i want.
"i might as well end it here/there's no reason to live."
there are plenty of reasons.
"i don't see her as a reason."
i can still feel your breath on me.
as i cry at the little reminders of you.
when it's night, i wish you were next to me.
but who would want to be with me.
i'm a spoiled, selfish, lying girl.
"i want out."
no, i want out.
"she has ruined me."
just give me a second chance.
"this was supposed to be our moment, not the world's.
what happened wasn't us."
but what if it's us.
what if it's us and only us.
"i know i hurt her, but she also hurt me.
i can't pretend this didn't happen.
pretending would let her off the hook.
she needs to know."
then let's make a promise to us.
let's start over
and not pretend.
Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 11:48 AM UTC
To my son.
This is me, apologizing.....
I apologize for all the bumps in the road. For the nights when I stayed up rocking you unsure of where we would sleep tomorrow.
I apologize that your daddy couldn't be there for your birth, he was there with me until I left for the hospital. Know that he is a good man who got caught up in the wrong woman.
I apologize for all of the times I lost my temper, I never wanted to be a screaming parent and I hope that when you read this you look back and think "but you rarely yelled".
I apologize for never feeling that I was a good mother, I hope that the way I felt about myself never affected your views of self worth.
Lastly I apologize for being just a kid myself trying to raise a better child, if I ever make you feel disappointed, disrespected, angry, or resentful I apologize. I love you with everything that I have... I am trying little bug.... Mommy is trying.
Aug 7, 2016
Aug 7, 2016 at 10:54 PM UTC
Friend one:
Reads "Rotten Tomatoes"
Always early, parks in a handicap zone
Friend two:
quietly disapproves
knows Friend one walked her dog a mile earlier
Friend one:
moves her car
digs out two waters, chocolate
and back pillow
buys peace and tickets
Friend two:
catches sneeze with *** of tissue
aggravated exchange:
about walking too fast ahead.
“Are you not my friend? Walk with me!”
Buys popcorn
Friend one:
wants seats on the end
for handy bathroom runs
Friend two:
does not want “the blow by blow” of reasons
just not in rafters
sneezes, and says so
trips
spills popcorn on the stairs
Friend one:
Sets up “camp”
Friend two:
holds crap
Friend one:
Settles in, builds her "nest"
opens water bottles
arranges back pillow
half-a-million napkins
“Want your jacket?”
Friend two:
holds popcorn, helps Friend one with jacket
Friend one:
pushes button for her seat back
seat sounds like a ****
Friend two:
says so, both laugh like fools
Friend two sneezes loudly, rubs her eyes
loses self in movie
Friend one:
starts to snore quietly
Friend two:
nudges her
Friend one:
(Who is never really snoozing)
runs out to restroom
misses best part of movie
Comes back,
“What happened?”
What happened?”
Friend two:
aggravated
hushes her
takes allergy pill
Friend one:
weeping at the end, watches all the credits
starts her review
apologizing to the kids of theater-cleaning-crew
popcorn, napkins, tissues everywhere
Friend two:
Sneezes yet again
Friend one:
Knows all the stars--
of friendship
being how she is one :)
Oct 7, 2018
Oct 7, 2018 at 11:52 PM UTC
The reason why I apologize
So profusely over the tiniest of things
Is because I always feel as though
I am a bother and annoyance so
I want the person to be aware that
I am truly sorry for the mishap
I may have brought about or the wrong words that may have come out of my mouth
Because in the past I had to apologize again and again
A million sorries I must have said
Just to get the point across
Just to assuage the anger I unintentionally caused
I apologize repeatedly
Because I fear not being taken seriously
When I say sorry I mean it with all of my heart
I apologize even when people say I am not at fault
Because in the past I was always the one guilty
I was always in the wrong
Because when that rage came up and rolled along
It rolled right over me
And so I said sorry
I said sorry to the steamroller for being in its way
And for the broken bones and bruises on my heart that I carried for days
I apologize for apologizing
Because I know I must sound so repetitive and annoying
But I feel as though I can't apologize enough
To make up for and cover up
Whatever sin I may have committed against the one I am apologizing to
Because when you say it’s okay I always fear it’s not true
Because in the past those hiccups and bumps
That weren't even my fault were held against me for months
No matter the amount of times I said sorry and meant it
And the number of times I tried to fix
The mangled mess that wasn't mine but that I was still apologizing for
It was like going to war
But I waged it and gave my best effort
To stitch and sew up the jagged cuts
Of long angry nights and an alcohol filled gut
But failed and then apologized when the seams ripped and tore
Because no matter what I did was going to restore
What used to be
Or repair the damage that happened before me
And so I am sorry for that
That I couldn't make it better because I lacked
Whatever it was you were looking for
But that constant state of feeling guilty is what sent me out the door
And I am free of that weight now
But I still feel the need to say sorry for every little mistake now
Thanks to you I sound like a record stuck on repeat
So I’m sorry that I say sorry too much
But I never know when enough sorries are enough
Jan 21, 2018
Jan 21, 2018 at 2:08 PM UTC
This is me apologizing. This is me finally coming up for air and coughing up apologizes instead of swallowing them down with gulps of water. This is me looking at your face and seeing the bags under your eyes because you stayed up all night trying to call me and apologizing. Looking at your nails and seeing the skin around them ****** and scabbed and the beds unevenly bitten down to nothing and apologizing. Looking at your eyes and seeing the way you bought colored contacts to cover the fact you spent days unmoving from a mirror trying to love yourself and apologizing. This is me seeing the needle points on your lips from where you injected your own blood to attempt to regain that color I claimed to be in love with and apologizing. As I'm looking at your arms and seeing where you scrubbed your skin with chemicals trying to erase the essence of me and when you smile I can see that you chugged a bottle of bleach to try and whiten your teeth bright enough so that you could be accepted by God himself into the pearly gates all I can do is apologize. I'm sorry that you spent hours carving my name into his back with your fingernails and biting your own tongue so hard it bled when he told you he loved you. When his flesh connected with yours causing the world to stop for a second and listen to your shrieking I know it was me you were screaming for and I'm sorry. As I'm standing here staring at you and watching them put brush stroke after brush stroke of blush onto your lovely pale cheeks trying to restore the life you lost so many years ago I'm finally realizing it's too late to apologize yet all I can think about is how this isn't even close to the eulogy you deserved. I should be talking about the way you danced and how your voice made my own falter momentarily and how you were more alive when you were dying than I ever will be when I'm living rather than apologizing but all I can seem to rationalize is how I spent years dry swallowing your love and spitting up knives to use to carve my initials into your thigh so you would always remember me and how I never even had the common decency to count to three before destroying you and I'm sorry. I'm afraid to look up now that I've finished apologizing because I know your empty eyes filled with nothingness will be staring back so horribly confused because I doubt you ever continued listening after I used the world eulogy and I'm sure you're going to wonder why I'm talking as if I'm sitting at your funeral rather than on the end of your bed but I don't know how else to make you grasp the concept of what you're doing to yourself by loving me in a better way than this and I'm sorry. C.a.l
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 7:21 PM UTC
I would rather be hysterical than vulnerable
to what most people call love.
I would rather couple with strange women
on an Amsterdam getaway
than let one more man
try to own me.
I prefer to ignore my own psychodynamics
in favor of endless talking cure analysis
and occasional astrology cult ******
that promise to speed my eventual evolution
from wounded *** object to invulnverable starchild.
I don’t need a Beverly Hills shrink
to tell me my narcissism and depression and squeaky voice
are symbolic of never having the power
to set a boundary between me and my father
who doted over my puberty
with slobbering praise and veiled lust.
Everyone who knows me for more than a week
sees my father throwing me financial bones
instead of apologizing for what he did
and the more I take his money
the freer I feel
distanced by automobiles with dark-tinted windows,
a house with a skull and crossbones doormat,
a silver .45 under my pillow
and not one single ex-boyfriend
about whom I will ever say a kind word.
I have created emotional and psychological invulnerability;
all men are now my father
and all men pay the price
of never being loved by me
and I pay the price of never being able to let them love me.
Now I just play with partners
and when they inevitably start to use the “L” word
I start to run inside
and I bounce off the walls and mirrors
of my own emptiness
and I go on a photo safari to Africa
where I pretend to understand the meaning of life
and I put out restraining orders
against the men who insist that I explain
and I have come to rely on legal and monetary fences
to protect me from
the truth about my deep loneliness.
I’ve never had an ******
never said I love you twice to the same person
and I think
as long as the money’s there
I won’t have to.
Aug 18, 2012
Aug 18, 2012 at 11:33 AM UTC
If ever I thought I was
worthless
useless
an empty vessel to hold the blame of the world, I was ignorant.
In the shadow of others I did not realize I was outgrowing the limited social garden bed of my ‘friends’ and companions. Friends would be an overstatement and a title many of them have never and will never earn. As a Scorpio my trust is not easily gained, and one lost, it is gone forever. Something in me, though, always forgave, but kept the trespasses against my trust cataloged, loaded, waiting to fire across my synapses is self destruction.
If ever I took your interest as a sign of friendship, I was a fool.
If ever I opened my heart to you, if ever I extended an almost maternal hand to you I was an idiot.
My body has been run ragged with its attempts at pleasing all and apologizing for its darker nature. My narcissism has become a survival mechanism that I once thought needed you.
My soul is weary of your needy hands, your open-bird mouth that I keep feeding more and more of my soul. Compassion has an end with me. In this game of survival, I will always be the fittest and you’ve stopped entertaining the animal within me.
I am worth so much more than being drained of my entirety. I am manifest energy as you are, as the earth is. Like the Earth my resources have been tapped and I can give no longer. Like the Earth I shall strike with ground shattering vengeance.
If ever I thought friendship was giving you everything for nothing in return, I was blind, for I am a Goddess as you are. I am a Goddess as you are a God, and your meager offerings of passing interest and constant need are insufficient. My inner patriarch has fed of your male-centric patterns of thought, and the women of my past lives are too loud in protest for this to continue.
I deserve much more than “friends” like you.
& most of all
If ever I thought my thighs were a sufficient reason for me to hate myself, if ever I thought they were an excuse for you to disrespect me, then I was a *****
Because you are an *** hole.
And my body is rad
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 4:59 PM UTC
Step One
Be reading a book when she passes your seat
And if she stops for a moment, say, with quiet excitement
"You really would love this book".
Step Two
Apologizing beforehand for wasting her time,
Proceed to read to her, in a deep, gentle voice,
A page or two from chapter one.
Step Three
If she likes it (she will), and says it's well-written,
And that she must find or purchase a copy somewhere,
Offer to let her borrow it.
Jan 11, 2013
Jan 11, 2013 at 1:49 AM UTC
when i told my friend that my new boyfriend loved sports and going out; partying, being loud and obnoxious, she grimaced and said she didn't know why i even liked him. i got angry with her - why did she not trust my gut?
i once told her that opposites attract, so we should be fine. we should have been.
but then came the fighting over little things, then came the mutual devaluation of each other's interests, then came the nights spent on the couch instead of in bed, his drinking. he would always take the books from my hands and throw them across the wall - ******** he called them. he'd always say i lived in my head, that i never gave him the attention he deserved, that he would take a ********** instead of me any time. and at some point, he had me loathing him more than i did myself.
yet, at the same time, i still loved him. it was like an addiction - i knew he was bad for me, but i clung onto him like he was air and i couldn't breathe. there were nights when i really couldn't.
sometimes it felt like he still loved me, too. when he came to the locked bathroom door and cried with me; apologizing over and over again. at those moments my love for him would crawl out of its cave - my heart - covered in blood, battered, bruised, but still standing. and it would hold him, whispering false truths in his ear. i would always forgive him, because opposites attract. it was just the way he was, he couldn't do anything about it.
even if he could, i frequently thought i didn't want him to. not because i was content with his violent outbrusts and alcoholism, or what he put me through on a daily basis - no. because i loved him, regardless of all the pain he caused me. and love means to accept someone for who they are.
but i came to realize that love is quite finite when all negative things seem infinite.
i hated the way we were so different. where i would sit in one place for hours on end, he'd walk around clumsily, breaking things, screaming, slamming doors.
he drove me mad. and, don't get me wrong, i am not a saint. i'm sure i did the same to him. maybe it's my fault that he turned out the way he did - perhaps if he had chosen to live with someone else, his smiles would still be kind rather than cruel. perhaps if i had changed for him - if i was more like him, we would have been okay. but my silence was deafening. i was convinced he didn't deserve to hear my voice. and he didn't, for days. sometimes he asked if i was pretending to be a ghost of what we used to be. i started questioning my previous way of thinking. do opposites really attract?
and i came to a conclusion. they really do. opposites attract, but they are not always good for each other. i had to learn that the hard way.
and just like a ghost, i faded. i left.
Apr 8, 2015
Apr 8, 2015 at 6:23 AM UTC
A thousand nights ago, a little girl lay writhing in pain
As drops of saltwater soaked the crimson-stained sheets
Cries for help were silenced by the same ravishing hands that gripped her,as the man consumed her whole
Her light was fading out,her hands stretched out towards a silhouette
She was pleading,
She was praying
That the figure take a step forward,vanish the demon-man with her supposed light
But the woman in the shadows did nothing
She stood there cold as before
She did not flinch nor expressed anything in her distant eyes
She did not even claim the little girl after
She left her underneath the darkness as the little girl died a million deaths
It has been a long three years now and the little girl has grown
And she feels all wrong
Like she is too much
Like she is never enough
Because they took everything that she was
You have cursed her with the belief that she can only attain love and enlightenment through another
You have infected her with hate, now she craves the feel of the cold blade on her skin
Her lips have grown fond of the taste of the poison
And she constantly needs pain to numb the ache of emptiness
This is not like those other ******* apologies because she is tired of apologizing for existing
When you never apologized for the things that you allowed to happen
Nor is this her playing the victim card and blaming you
This exists to tell you that
She is sinking
The void is gaping
She is losing
And she is sorry for not being able to **** it up"
Because when little girls bleed,they cry
And what they need is a mother's caress to help heal the wounds
Because when little girls get victimized,they feel pain
And what they need is a mother to protect them and dry their tears
But you don't know that and she is sorry
She is sorry that you never lived up to your title
She is so ******* sorry
Mom
–W.
Mar 21, 2017
Mar 21, 2017 at 10:34 AM UTC
stop apologizing
stop apologizing for being yourself
stop apologizing for being sad sometimes
stop apologizing for the way you look
or act
or talk
or kiss
so look at me
up
blue to blue
and tell me you're not sorry.
not sorry for who you are
unapologetic in your beauty where hair falls on shoulders
next to a freckled face that resembles my vision of true art
you
you are what happens when the moon rises above the horizon
pushing and pulling the tides
like heart strings
mine stings at your absence.
the moon is not sorry.
it simply is
as you should be.
fractured during times but pieced together in the sky when together with the sun
it mimes to us
without words moving the planet ever so slightly
lightly kiss me under it
and stop
breathe.
stop apologizing.
be who you are.
bold, beautiful, smart, **** cheeky, funny, loving, warm
these words and more, in my own mental dictionary have your face plastered permanently next to them
and so i understand these words not by definition
but by example.
but by you.
Jun 3, 2018
Jun 3, 2018 at 9:59 AM UTC
I don't know where should I start,
But lately it's been tearing me apart.
I guess I should start by apologizing,
'Coz I might have caused you too much overthinking.
I hate fighting, especially with you.
You're my bestfriend and I hope we could get this through.
You mean a lot to me more than you'll ever know.
Despite of our differences, misunderstandings and petty fights, still, I will never let you go.
I could never stay mad at you for too long,
'Coz I know this friendship is just too strong.
I also hate the fact being this far away.
It's hard to reach out and express the things I want to say.
Even though I'm deeply hurt, I will choose to set that aside and stick by your side.
Whether you like it or not I'll always be here;
So please lend me your ear.
I am hoping by the time you finished reading this, all the good memories of ours, you'll reminisce.
You are irreplaceable Pauline and you are worth fighting for. I ran out of rhymes but who cares? I just want to let you know that right now.
Mar 23, 2015
Mar 23, 2015 at 10:06 PM UTC
To the man on the street that called my ex girlfriend and I ****** I forgive you. We were nineteen and in love, I’m sorry that you were raised in a way that made you look at two girls holding hands and laughing as something that wasn’t to be shown in public. I’m sorry that my happiness made you feel insecure in that moment. My happiness was not on display to offend you. My love life was never an act of rebellion against you. I will forgive you for how you were raised but I will not apologize for showing love in a way you don’t deem appropriate for wandering eyes.
To the people I went to high school with, I’m sorry I never heard the rumours you spread about me until you were already out of my life. I’m sure you meant to break my heart when you called me **** in the hallways but your words never made their way back to me. Your aggression towards who I chose to love never stopped me from falling in love with girls I never imagined could be real. I refuse to hide away my love. I will not let your words shame me back into the closet I was scared to admit I was stuck in.
To the people who used to send me anonymous messages telling me to **** myself I hope you’re in a better place now. I often think about how my big secret made you so upset that you couldn’t stand to live in the same world as me. I’m not sorry that I’m still here now. I still feel sorry that you were so sad with yourself that you needed to make me feel as hopeless as you were.
To the people who voted no towards same *** marriage but watch girl on girl **** I’m sorry my love is only okay when it’s for your pleasure. I’m sorry that you have such a skewed view on life that you see women as objects and not as people. I would forgive you but I don’t think you’d fess to your wrongdoing to be forgiven. There is nothing to forgive if someone won’t admit that they are wrong.
I’m twenty three now and I’m still not sorry for writing love poems about beautiful girls. I have stopped apologizing for being something that I’m proud of. I no longer hide behind my assumed heterosexuality. I proudly proclaim my attraction to women because I spent too many years being ashamed of being in love. I will never again sweep hatred under the rug to keep peace. I have never needed your approval for my love to be valid and I never will.
Mar 7, 2021
Mar 7, 2021 at 10:08 AM UTC
The bottom line is I'm always the one stuck apologizing. There's this thing inside of me that thinks you can do no wrong to the point that when you're standing over me with blood on your hands staring at the knife in my chest I will look up at you and apologize for ruining your favorite white shirt and staining your skin. When you're holding me deep in the icy cold water and I'm gasping for breath only to fill my lungs with ice chips I will shake my head and wonder why the hell I didn't think to wear warmer clothes. And of course, when you tell me you don't love me anymore I won't believe for a second it's because of the demons inside your own head or that you're intentionally saying it to rip my heart into irreparable pieces I will convince myself with every fiber of my being that it's because I'm just not what you need. I didn't hug tight enough or wipe your tears away in the right way or buy the right kind of flowers on your birthday and I especially didn't let you in to my mind and body and soul enough. I constantly did my best to push you away and I guess ultimately I did but it doesn't seem I did it soon enough because now you're laughing at me as I'm on my knees in front of you begging you to take me back and in between mumbled "I love you's" I'm apologizing yet again only this time I can't seem to find a way to put into words why it's my fault and not yours because maybe, for once, you're wrong. Maybe you ****** up this time. But I think we both know that I could never admit that or make myself believe it but while I try I'll stay here on my knees begging for forgiveness for all of your mistakes. C.a.l
Feb 10, 2015
Feb 10, 2015 at 12:21 PM UTC
This is not the place
to tell someone you love them
for the first time,
and although I do not believe you,
I smile.
You are not the one
who should be apologizing.
I am the one leaving,
I will take that piece of you with me
(the one you said was mine).
There are flowers beside my bed
sprayed and dyed into
the type of artificial beauty
that can only be appreciated against a white room.
You look at my hands so you do not have to
face the blue circles under my eyes.
You try to laugh like we used to
but there is a carefulness to your disposition
that was never there before;
you are afraid to break me.
I think it's strange that
your heart seems more shattered than mine;
that I try to stay strong for you.
I think it's unfair that
when visiting hours end and you stand to leave,
you drop my hand one finger at a time
and you tell me you love me like
it is the last time,
every time.
I think it is unfair
that you are the one
with last words.
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 7:31 PM UTC
I heard in a song
that you’re only
as good as your
last mistake.
And I’ve never been
more thankful for
humans ability
to make millions.
So you’ll never
be my last,
because I’m better
than that.
Burning toast
and eating it anyway.
Buying shampoo
when I actually
needed conditioner.
Showing up late
to a meeting.
Missing the first
day of class.
Studying for an exam
two hours before it starts.
Not turning in an
assignment because
I just simply didn’t
want to do it.
Not leaving my pajamas or
bed when there’s
so much to do.
Apologizing when they
bumped into me.
Lying to people
who care, I’m okay.
Not locking my door.
Walking alone at night.
I’d rather be
defined by all
of these things
than you.
Dec 26, 2014
Dec 26, 2014 at 9:46 PM UTC
You may think I am too sensitive
I am just sensitive enough to cry to a sad song
I am just sensitive enough to sing along to a song that touches my heart
I am just sensitive enough to cry while watching a Hallmark movie
I am just sensitive enough to listen to other’s troubles and either empathize or sympathize with them
I am just sensitive enough to be a shoulder to cry on
I am just sensitive enough to be a good friend
I am just strong enough to not feel like apologizing for being sensitive because it is a part of who I am
Jul 19, 2015
Jul 19, 2015 at 10:27 PM UTC