One
I'm sorry.  
Of course, you'll never know it.
I'm writing poems to a ghost by proxy, 
Gone before you even had fingernails or looked like a
Tangible thing and not some alien parasite.  

I heard once
That a soul can't inhabit a body
Until it takes the first breath of
Oxygen into it's lungs,
And if that's the case,
I'm sorry I stole the taste from you.

Two
I built a monument for your martyrdom
In the city of my thoughts, somewhere
Between the Relationship Trauma District,
And Motherhood Gardens.
It is a bronzed sunflower held in a mangled fist.
Your older sister takes me there in her laughter.

Three
You have to understand,
The man that put us both in this predicament
Didn't know how to keep his hands to himself
Or know how to fight his own demons without drawing
Someone else's blood trying to shadowbox with them.
How could I choose to potentially
Give him the opportunity to ever draw yours?  

Four
I'm sorry that we were careless,
Played Russian roulette with a loaded pistol
One by one slid five bullets between six chambers,
Haphazardly I spun the cylinder.
Placed the barrel to the roof
Of my mouth for good measure
Pulled the trigger, heard the faint click
Of my future, and then it was his turn.
I didn't think through the repercussions of
Lying in a grave before it had even been dug.  
Sharing blame and co-dependency
Intrinsically fed off of each others pain,
We entwined and made something out of hatred,
And I'm sorry that was you.

Five
Even now I hear myself say these words and,
It sounds selfish parading itself as selfless
Why didn't I say no or protect myself with
Contraceptives or just not have *** with him?
******* adoption, HELLO?
Or at the very least swallow.  Right?  
Right. I blame myself a lot too, there's really no
Reason to tell me things I already scream
At myself about inside of my head.  
Or is it my mother's voice?  I can't tell anymore.
She had a lot of opinions about you,

Six
There are so many hoops I had to jump through,
Contortionist poses to assume, to do this.
I'm sorry it's the most flexible I've allowed
Myself to be in all my life.
But,
Do not think I didn't mourn you.

Seven
For  years after I will run my palm over my stomach
And feel the concave of your absence inside of me
The less than, The empty
A hollow cavern that crumbled bit by bit, eroded by
Wave after wave of guilt in hightide
During a tropical storm,  
The malestrom that howled within now
Only taunts me anymore, with a constant hum,
The echoes of the pitter-patter
Of a light rain. The heartbeat I only heard once.

Eight
Would you hold me in a different light
If I told you that despite
All the darkness surrounding how I feel
About it, I don't regret the choice?  
Lamentful, burdened with
Would-haves and could-haves
But rooted in affirmations, knowing full well
That the heartache would have been far worse
For everyone in the long run,  

Nine
That I feel like I saved you.
That I feel like I saved both of us.
I'm sorry.

Ten
Sorry.
The word  falls from my lips like a void purport
To a forgiveness that I will never receive.

I think anatomy is a tad mistaken
When it says we are all made of blood and bone
I peeled your skin back and I swear I saw
Lightening flashes and whirlpools borne
Or perhaps it's my own shipwrecked mine
That imagines that storms live under your flesh
Yet I note the nautical compass of my own being
And think, could anything but a maelstrom have caused this?
To be blown off course, and ****** down to ocean floors
To see my hand transparent as lightening folds through
With ice battering against naked skin
What else would cause my mind to sink so deep
Or the aching tiredness in my bones
Tell me love, do you live in my head or on the ocean floor
Are you a man or a maelstrom?

i am left
with out want
or passion.

.....spent.....

yet when lifetimes
ago,
but, just moments,

i was the eye,
of a malestrom,
caught between,
the fall of water
from the shower's head
and the waterfall
of lust,

converted into love....

as hips ******
and receded,
in waves, tidal
i became....
but a delta,
for the rushing tides
and we met,
                    as liquid.

A nuetron star born in a silent room for a breif moment. A cascading caphoney cracked and cratered my cranium in a moment of concious exhileration. Dumb struck and reeling as i found my self in the malestrom of a magnificant multichromatic  multiverse.  Touching to touch what crazy subconcious thing have you seeded into my mind.