Forgive Me

Have I ever composed an apology

That did not gesture for sympathy?

I have always sought to avoid blame

And those violations which can not be

Rectified will likely destroy me.

What is an apology without amends?

And can one ever be sufficiently

Reformed to qualify for forgiveness?

–

I am selfish and generous

But the former, though essential

To survival, is impermissible.

How do I become a god?

That I should not want,

That I should be limitless,

Without exception and always ready.

How can I commit to promises

That do not permit my imperfections?

–

I understand the need

To confess plainly

But when I am the mistake

How do I avoid repetition?

I am, at least in my own mind,

More criminal than crime.

An accusation comes seemingly

At the expense of my life.

I am a coward.

I can think of no explanation for love

Only that I will never admire the portrait.

How can I see beyond my own self-loathing?

How much guilt can I ingest before

Living becomes itself taboo?

–

I want others to think well of me,

I am scared to acknowledge

My faults without clarification,

Clarifications inevitably beget justifications,

If I do not justify does it imply

That I do not care?

Do my justifications seek

Eradication of self?

I do not know.

–

I feel compelled to recommend myself

Because I cannot shake the notion

That I must earn love anymore

Than I can shake the notion

That I am undeserving of its reception.

I cannot bring myself to give you

A reason to leave.

I do not want you to leave

But experience has proven

That I am intolerable.

–

How can I apologize for your feelings

When they bear no semblance to my intentions

And come from insecurities furnished before

I was even born? I was not born a devil

Even if I fell directly into enemy hands.

You did not love me from the first

And perhaps not for a long time after.

There is no law against hate

Only what follows so often in its course.

I have wanted for love ever since

But those initial absences cannot be filled.

Though I have forgiven you,

I still find you prickly and take offense

Where none may have been intended.

How often you cite my short-comings

And some days I find it hard to initiate

Knowing that my failings have already arrived.

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