And the last...
Old Ghosts
I'm sorry and I love you isn't enough
I've just shut the door in my husband's face.
Closed it so I couldn't see the apologetic eyes, eyes that say everything.
The sorrow for causing me pain
sorrysorrysorryinevermeanttobegonethislong
The begging
pleaseforgivemepleasepleaseforgiveme
The apology
imsorryimsorryimsorry
The worry
kirsten?kirsten?saysomething…anything
The defeat
iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou
>
I didn't want to see those eyes, or his nervous hands, his tired face, the lock of hair that falls into his eyes, the worried,
sheepish smile.
So I closed the door.
So I wouldn't hear his vain apologies and despite everything, want to run my hands through his hair, breathe in his salt and
coffee scent and taste his lips with frenzied kisses.
What if he has her kisses on his lips?
Or worse? He has been gone half the night.
I can't forgive him so quickly this time.
I could feel the silent imsorryimsorryimsorryiloveyouiloveyouiloveyou in the air between us, but right now that's not
enough.
