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You Are Not Sorry
by Aaron BlairI have your blood.
You broke my skin just to get it back.
I broke my skin just to give it back.
We keep waiting for it to mean something,
the pieces of you swimming inside me,
because you hate yourself,
so this form offends you.
You hate my mother,
so this face offends you.
You wanted to break me apart,
and start all over,
but you didn't know how to make anything,
and you couldn't stop clawing
at your own flesh,
when you were supposed to only be tracing,
so the copies all came out wrong.
I was supposed to be a better version of you,
but you could not stand the thought
of being bested, of being second,
and I've given you more than second chances,
an infinity, all the time I wasted,
those added together seconds
of holding my breath, waiting,
the vacuum that occurred between the blow
and the rush of blood to begin the bruise.
I finally learned my lesson.
You never said you were sorry,
but I'm sorry enough for the both of us. 06/01/2013 Posted on 06/01/2013
Copyright © 2025 Aaron Blair
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by George Hoerner on 06/04/13 at 11:24 AM "We keep waiting for it to mean something," I told my kids when they were younger that nothing has "meaning" unless we give it "meaning". There are no absolutes when it comes to "meaning". Yours and mine might both be different but they both are as "true" as we make them.
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