I tried to think of a good way to write an apology and all what happened is it set me thinking as to what I am apologising for.
A kaleidescope of colours is how I'd like to think but the truth looks more like an angry thunderstorm behind the shiny bits of glass,
If thunderstorms could be a dirty, dusty red.
But I bleed black and blue most of the time, the ink becoming blood dripping from my fingertips when I drag a pen across the flawless paper.
Sometimes, I think my best writings were in the torn up pieces of paper chucked into the waste bin a long time ago.
I'm still thinking about that apology to my lover that he got caught in my anxiety attack and got hurt.
He is already overwhelmed with his own issues and doesn't need a scruffy vagabond adding more to it,
Even if the scruffy vagabond is as nice as ice.
It gets hard having to keep giving all the time and not getting any in return and the emotional baggage just piles on and one fine day you end up dropping it.
It's okay, I've been dropped before and I've never fallen further than the concrete floor,
It's not like there's an endless abyss underneath it where I'll scream for someone to just please hold out a hand.
But I do scream still even though it's just a hard, bone snapping, concrete floor.
I still scream though you tell me there is nothing for me to shriek and wail as though death has become living.
I still scream when you aren't listening too.
This time, it was an accident that you heard me. I beg your forgiveness. I love you and I never meant to hurt you by dumping the same endless loop of hurt on you. I had stopped doing that in front of you.
Though I'm a bit unsure of how you love me these days, I'm still trusting you. Please stay for this scruffy vagabond. She promises to scream in silence. Please?
