As Long as Angels

Sorry if my actions made you feel somehow flawed.

It was no failing of yours.

If you needed more than I wanted to give,

and you had to make do—

If your plans involved me and I didn’t show—

If all you wanted was a little affection and reassurance,

and I was too “preoccupied” to pick up on the cue—

My reasons don’t suffice, I know,

Can’t possibly qualify,

Aren’t even remotely acceptable.

The worst ring out a hurtful cacophony:

“I’m busy right now.”

“It’s a waste of money.”

“I don’t have that kind of time.”

“That’s silly.”

“What’s wrong with you?”

And, of course, later meant never.

I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Say yes.

Can I make it up to you?

If I can’t get through now, it can wait. It can wait a while.

If you’re not ready, tell me when you are.

But please don’t forget—tell me, okay?

And don’t take as long as angels. We’re mere mortals.

Chances are always fleeting, I’ve learned.

And lifetimes don’t come with guarantees,

and regrets last forever.

(Draft #2: June 19, 2016 – Juneteenth)