I put my lips to you,
ready to speak my truths into your ready speaker,
but I was the weaker,
and I'm wondering how many times I can whisper
or wail or whimper
I'm sorry...
because I failed when I spoke to you,
choked like a dying flounder,
gasping and grasping at straws.
Wonder if you found her,
the girl I left at your mouth.
Whenever I look at you,
I hear my own voice echo back,
the young freshman attack of too much hair dye
and too little insight,
too much fight and too little wait time,
my deadbeat heart of mine
would die
in your sound system.
When did I
wreck your sound system?
The mechanics of everyday routine
dripping in mellow, no-nonsense serene
messed up by one mean little girl,
one mean little mouth.
Lips like daggers that bit and bled,
you said you never liked that.
Regret tastes like iron,
like steel reeling in the back of your throat,
a silent, repelling moat of happenstance.
I'm sorry, my almost
my too much
my forgotten host.
I'm sorry.
I just wanted to check up on you.
