On the 4th day of poetry - Sorry is not enough

We were the perfect frequency, the right tone
And nobody could beat us, not even Wilma and Fred Flintstone
My love was sketched in your heart and your love was mosaicked in indelible patterns in my brain
You would stay up and blow circles around my eyes just to tease me in my sleep; that’s how mad our love was, it was nothing sane

We could talk all night about nothing and everything in the same instance
Such that nothing seemed like everything and everything seemed like nothing – a cognitive dissonance
I knew all your soft spots, the places that made you jump in glee; - you were like an electronic wormy device
And you could trace every single spot and scar on my skin even if you’d been blindfolded twice

You could tell me whatever, whenever, wherever - I was your confidante
We wore our love like a precious shinning cloak because that’s exactly what it was, a diamante
There was no such thing as secrets; I could almost read your mind back then anyway
And you could complete every one of my sentences on any given day

For us, awkward silence was an ark in our world, because we had all the best in the world in our hearts in that moment of silence.
Thoughts, tranquility, togetherness, holding hands – love condensed
We were authors of a book we had already plotted out, taking each day at a time
You said I was the only one who could hold your concentration for hours unend – something I readily cosign

I was the band in your boxers,
The zipper to your fly,
The wedgie in your butt,
The engine in your Mercedes.

I was all that, yet you looked me in the eye and tore my heart out
Hurt me with your words and left me in doubt
All the promises that you made, you just lied
You said I was your heartbeat, are you still breathing? Because I just died

Now you’re here telling me you’re sorry
How about the endless hours I spent crying my eyes out
How about the torture of my thoughts stuck in a prison of a failed love
How about going to bed and wishing I’d stay asleep rather than wake up to this living nightmare
Sorry is not enough

I want 3 boxes of French exotic chocolate
I want an exquisite private dinner and you better not be late
I want custom made jimmy choos
I want two silver necklaces, two diamond brooches, two fancy watches – yeah everything comes in twos
I want expensive cloths and a classy phone with my name etched in style in gold
I even want a black on black brand new BMW

But I want you so much more
Sorry is not enough, and if I can’t have all that,
I just want the old you back


Written by: Poetra Ama Asantewa click and add her on Facebook

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