bruised

the sun didn't rise,
the sky remained a grey
and my heart still beats nervously,
i've only a few pounds to my name.
but i have sketchbooks
and i have him.
and i had him.
i want to lie in last night's filth,
dressed from head to toe-
guns and roses, shirts and socks
in his clothes.
braid my dirty hair and pin it back
for maximum exposure.
smears of mascara still around my eyes
bitten fingernails
and unshaven legs.
i need the sea air to tell me i'm sane.
i need to find him
i need to explain.

i need a way to apologise without being sorry.

Reviews

[celyn]

I agree with Ed

[Ed Hart]

"apologize without being sorry" is worth three poems, a ride in the country, and a generous kiss on the cheek...Ed