Bossa Nova

I've been saying sorry and apologizing for everything of late. Cruel sick mind. Why is  it haunting me now? I could make (another) list of things that is supposed to make myself feel better. But then what? Do I continue living my superior life, unharmed, happy, blinded by worldly delights? I get it now. 

This is how you felt when I left you.

Can you hear me? The big tide speeds through the shore. Memories of you, swept away. The rough sand stands still. Brace, for the next wave. Boats come and go.  I was nothing but an empty shell. Biding time, searching for the light. Why did you wait? Hesitate. Broken hearted. And now I am still nothing but an empty shell. Contemplate.

And hate.