An Apology Would Be Adult
Let's workshop this bitch!
An Apology Would Be Adult
You shouldn't have tried to hurt me,
especially on some troll-ass bitch shit.
If you’re gonna be a lying cyber rat,
don’t reveal your plans, definitely
not to a mother who could see
beneath my Joker humor and soft spot
for house-burning lovers like Left Eye
that I’m a good man, who could see
her son becoming a man like me—
a mother who doesn’t want her kids
inhabiting a world with cruel snakes
trying to harm upstanding people,
dreamers, with false accusations;
a mother showing her love for you
by dropping a dime on your ass.
(Much love to queen S. P.!)
I'm sorry people treated you like shit
enough to make you suspicious of me
(someone so gushy with his feelings).
I’m sorry you grew up objectified, tricked,
by men who might sound similar to me.
I'm sorry that my seeing so much in you
placed a burden on you to live up to,
especially given my age and education.
(My intent wasn’t to stress you out,
only to remind you how special you are.
I’ve eaten from the tree of knowledge
enough to know that you aren’t perfect,
that even you too shit and will rot away.
That doesn’t mean you aren’t worthy
of a being placed on a high pedestal
even if it doesn’t quite match the way
you sometimes present yourself,
the way all young girls are groomed
to present themselves: sex objects,
who haven’t eaten “in like a whole day,”
hunting for CashApp contributions.)
I'm sorry to have reported that my girl
sensed you were broken right now
and would be a liability on our family
with your drinking and shifting moods,
your apparent thirst for male attention.
(My intent wasn’t to weaponize that,
only to explain why I didn’t fly you out
right away into my mouth, my choke.)
I’m sorry too for my little digs at you:
I’m still a human who gets frustrated.
I’m a stranger. But if you need me,
I’ll still be there. Yes, even strangers
are not as uncaring and unreliable
as you might think. You’re forgiven.
But still, an apology would be adult.
*This poem is unpublished