Apologies which never come

Life is a lot
About apologies
Which never
Do come


Exists outside
Of queries

Having to find
Things to replace
Our weariness

I guess
I thought

If you knew
How I felt

You would
Wonder with me
About how
To fix it

The marker though
Of a remorseless
Is one who will
Never admit
What they’ve broken

What’s it like
To write such
Insincere tracts?

When you know
Very well what’s
Behind your mask?

You claim you wear it
To protect yourself
Not from the disease
But from attacks
On your heart

Yet I know better
Than to buy
This falsehood
This fakeness

I know the truth
About you
You told me yourself

That’s how I know
A true apology
Won’t ever surface

All these strange allusions
Are about saving face
& about avoiding consequence

How selfish is that
After all you did?
& all you’ve said?

As I said
We could spend
A lifetime of
False hope
Waiting on

Instead I think
I’ve already shown
Disingenuous writing
Cannot hold its own

I would not write something down
If it didn’t ring true

Why did I waste even a minute
Pining for you?

I know better now
About the games you play
They really didn’t go away
Now did they?

My challenge to you
Is to write something true

From a place you haven’t found yet

Inside of you

I promise you
You need to

I wish you well
Good luck with that
No matter how fast you drive
You’ll never out-speed the facts

© Niliema Karkhanis

Authour’s note: a poem for day 20 of a month of poetry 2021. The day 19, yesterday’s, optional glopowrimo prompt was to write a humourous rant poem. Mine is a serious one.

Featured image by Paweł Czerwiński from Unsplash

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