I apologised too often,

and you, never enough.

I apologised for the pink

my cheeks blushed

like whiplash after a drink.

I apologised for breaking

my own heart and the glass

left on the sideboard, drying.

I apologised for the tears

I could no longer explain;

promised you, it was not you

who had caused me so much pain

and for a time, this was true.

It wasn’t you.

It was the memories

which haunt each

pillow and staircase,

the empty walls

and my indigo veins,

the ones which whisper

and sing of each betrayal:

every I love you written

for anyone but me.

I apologised to you often,

yet it was never enough.

---

Written for Susan M. Conway’s 100 Days of Writing Prompts: ‘the way that some memories haunt you.’

Photograph & poem: © Kristiana Reed 2019

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