I’m sorry / swimful

by Christos Polydorou

If there is forgiveness
in your heart
please forgive me.
I’m so sorry
for everything
that I said
and did
that hurt you.
I did not
do it
out of cruelty.
Sometimes
I get melodramatic.

I’m so sorry.

If there is forgiveness
in my heart
I can forgive you.
You’re so sorry
for everything
that you said
and did
that hurt me.

You’re so sorry.

If there is forgiveness
in your heart
please forgive this young man.
Once upon a time

/

you were roommates.
Remember? You looked
over at him sitting at
the kitchen table
staring zonked
out the kitchen door.

The one
through which
you saw
a fox
on one occasion
and a robin
on Christmas morning.

Was he even
twenty five? He
embodied masculinity
(physically) perfectly. His arms
were so strong, and in his grumpy face…

something shallow : swimful, divedowns,
in his eyes. His beauty,
though he used it as a trap,
to ensnare, a seeable, nearly
rhetorical use of one’s own
beauty, even so, you let
his beauty
was over you. He took
your breath away, the

way he stared
into nothing
as if
he was listening
to it, a giant seashell. You did
that sort of
thing
sometimes, too. Weird,
that you thought you were communicating
with angels
for profound tips
on how best to proceed.

The first thing you said about him, when he moved into the house was,
He is bad news.

I’m sorry.
I’m sorry I got bored.
I’m sorry that you seemed interesting.
I’m sorry that you only wanted something.
I’m sorry that I caught on to that.
I’m sorry I’m not a big sharer.
I’m sorry London is so expensive.

I’m sorry.

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