I Am Not Sorry

I love your apology. When it’s backward. Words come forward, meaning in reverse.

Words said to me, to tend my hurt. But they’re meant for you, to protect your inflated worth.

You speak, not to ease me. But to please you.

Lift a weight from your shoulders, placing it on my back. What a wonderful delight. To hear this soliloquy of useless words. Recycle these phrases. Make new ones with meaning.

Wasted ear time. That’s what they are. They’re no better than drunken words, spoken at a bar.

Proud of yourself. With these selfish words. Elegance leaving your lips. I don’t care, what’s heard.

Dangling sorrow. Not taking the bait. Here are your words back, pointless they are.

Brushed in arrogance, cold and aloof. Relief they did not give. Well, only for you.

© Maurice Blocker