September, September –
the time you went in felt weird
an almost off-putting glue
leaving me feeling strange, out of sorts;

I’m sorry that at times
even though you gave much goodness
I screamed at you ’til I was blue
and cried ‘til my chest throbbed;

you tried, even in your moments
of seemingly pure hatred
to wrap gifts with “for you”
with ribbons and bows so full;

so odd it was from you of all
after our other historical meetings
perhaps it was an apology true
for all you’ve done in past beings;

maybe you were shocked to see
me overtaken by confused emotions
how did it seem as a view?
was it head-turning if you’ve one that is;

did you ask why your seeming apology
was replied to in such an upset manner
maybe you got in the queue
behind my own confused state;

only now do I realise why
it wasn’t your apology, it was past doings
you sent it all askew
sometimes there’s no making amends;

my past experience with yourself
has led to here, unsure of your apology
you hurt me and made me a new
I didn’t know how to take it;

perhaps I never will, who knows?
your apology made me feel lightheaded
was it real, was it all in lieu?
and it showed me the past’s extent;

nevertheless I apologise, you heard it too
maybe wrongly – maybe rightly due
but it’ll take time to sink through
the complexities that comes with you.

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