Remorse Code.
Updated on October 17, 2009
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© -MFB III
Remorse code
echoes wistfully
only the clock tocks
as she taps her foot
because she's ticked off.
So I stumble through
the rue morgue
rueing all of the words
I could have said
left utterless.
In the stance of repentance
regret poses me like an egret,
shifting from one leg to another
unbalanced by my calm qualm.
Apologies would be apathetic,
contrition would not yield fruition,
in the nation of self condemn.
I am at this moment
it's soul citizen,
and so I walk with contriteness
to her dissapointed face.
Lifting her chin tenderly,
then drying her tears
with a smile
as I set free her sorrow
with a passionate kiss,
that she eagerly embraces
in acknowledgement
of my communicated sorrows.