I sometimes get the urge to be noble again
To write old lovers
To apologize for transgressions
I don’t really feel all that guilty for
If indeed they were transgressions at all

My ego gets in the way of an honest humility
Which I suppose I possessed when I was three
And may have even been thought cute and precocious
For owning. But I am not that cute anymore
And jaded eyes can’t remember a time when
I was all that innocent, nor conjure up
The need to throw that affectation
Into the fires of nostalgia.

Starting my apology I am brought up short
By the umbrage that caused my anger
In the first place. And though time has allowed
Me the perspective to see some of it was
Indeed my fault, hers was also a breach
For which no words of sweet amelioration
Ought to be traveling from me.

I was always the groveller back then
The one who found the clever words to soothe all
Hurts and align the feelings of the embattled. If I did not
Fawn and make possible
The continuance of friends, then friendships
Would have withered on the vine

I sometimes chide myself for
Such cowardice, but the truth is
It was an attribute for which I should have been proud
And yes, I could have been a diplomat
For all the artful words I spilled to make
It right.

But having grown a pair in the ensuing years
And the self-righteousness that is the by-product
Of a principle, I now lack the
Pudding to write or speak words I don’t really feel

And in the end, the only thing I’m sorry for
Is that it took me so long to realize
I wasn’t ever all that sorry

Makes writing an apology
Quite difficult when you think about it

05/20/2010

Posted on 05/20/2010
Copyright © 2025 Ken Harnisch