Dear Love...
I'm sorry, but I think I've abused you.
I slandered you amongst my pals;
Wrinkled the honour of your name within
My palms. I took a picture of your hair
And kept a photo in my last drawer.
Yet I bragged to the world
That you were a sojourner in my bedroom.
Dear Love...
I'm sorry, but would you forgive?
Would you hear the hate speeches
I've crafted and still not believe?
Would you smell the disdain and still
Choose to be mute?
How would you confront me brandishing
My slur-stained tongue?
Dear Love...
I'm sorry, but have you got ears?
Do you see the news?
I've birthed atrocities, sworn to ridicule you.
I've consecrated soldiers,
Steadfast even to this ignoble cause.
Dear Love...
I'm sorry, but life is fading.
Souls are weightless.
The heart grazes the ocean beds.
Feelings are lifeless.
Dear Love...
I'm sorry, but have you been gifted a mailbox?
Does all the hurt get to you?
Did shame knock at your door, too?
Do we even still share the same street?
Dear Love...
I'm sorry, do I know you??
