Apologies To District Six

I suppose I would like You to know that I am sorry.

That’s how all apologies and the like are supposed to begin,

With that admission of guilt or regret or something that tastes like bile

And doesn’t go away when you brush your teeth.

 

I would like You to know that I am sorry.

That every day I think of You and every night

When the sky is blank I dream of You.

That You are never too far from me,

And I am sorry I have turned so far from You.

 

I’m sorry that I’ll see You tomorrow has become

I’ll see You in a while has become

I’ll see You in a month has become

I hope to see You again.

And I am sorry.

 

You asked me to meet You at the basketball court around the corner.

2pm You said, and we could talk.

You wanted to share Your precious few words with me...

At the time just a face becoming familiar...

On that dusty blacktop of Your childhood

But I didn’t listen to those words falling from Your mouth like diamonds,

And I am sorry,

That perhaps I was a faulty trove for such treasures.

 

And I am sorry

You never finished that song,

The one called “She’ll Never Turn Her Back on Me”

That your newspaper hands played out on the piano in corner

Is my back now turned?

Maybe,

Because now I can’t remember saying goodbye to You.

So Your last picture of me is that night at the bar

When I grabbed Your arm a storm in my eyes

and left You there in the valley, alone and drunk.

I am sorry I turned my back on You.

 

And I’m sorry I never came to Your room,

I know I said I would.

I promised I’d make it.

Sometimes I didn’t smile back at You,

Which was really all you wanted;

A smile to fall into Your eyes so wide and eager for love.

And I’m sorry.

I didn’t always walk You home,

And once You came back, gentle face swollen from their fists,

And I’m sorry

 

One night You reached out to me through the words of goodbye

scratched on an envelope taped to my door.

And in Your hands You held an end to Your means.

And so I searched the whole world for You,

Back through the streets staring-down demons in the dark

But I couldn’t find you.

I didn’t find you.

You, alone-scared-needing light, I didn’t find you.

And now, I’d like to promise that next time things will be different,

That you’ll call and I’ll run

But I can’t.

And I’m sorry.

 

I’m sorry and such

For coming at all,

Because even before I sunk into the pool of Your soul

I knew I’d have to leave.

I love You, I swear

But even before Your pulse became synonymous with mine

I began to walk away.

 

I’m sorry,

And if you feel as though Your words were wasted

Your love unrequited

Your touch unnecessary

And Your prayers unwanted

Don’t.

For still my heart beats to a memory of Yours

When We waited at the corner on a night thick with fog and words unsaid

And still my eyes search for the shattering glance of Yours

That I held onto through the window of the departing bus.

 

I apologize, and the like,

For letting You love me the way You did.

And I apologize, and the like,

For not loving You the same way.

This poem is about: 
My community
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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