Down deep, beyond the rib-cage and the flecks of pride.
Lies a guilt, heavy like the tear from god.
It sits silently, weighted by time.
How many grudges have been held?
Placed on this mantel, pride of place.
These bones, once hollow, fill now with coal.
Snap them, and dust will fill your lungs.
Worse than tar, the blackness invades.
It blankets my body inside and out.
Layering over the precious stone of apology.
What a treasured word.
Seemingly too short, it should feel longer.
Spoken like a heavy prayer that presents its importance.
I am sorry.
Now with ownership and agency.
For time is precious, as are these tears.
Bled out in true remorse.
I am sorry for you, what has been done.
Sorry that the past cannot be un-spun.
An apology that starts with me, back in the beginning.
Rolling back time like pages in a book.
Each one filled with the ink of the soul.
And this apology ends with you.
For what is to occur next, in a breath of a life waiting to exhale.
In the unwritten, yet contrite touched pages of my skin.
That keep my sorrys within.
for more from Mark, find him here: https://havocandconsequence.wordpress.com/