I am sorry...

Fingers Draw
Across this dry paper
Like this Dry wasteland
laid out before me
I allow the tips to dance like flame
Across the darkest Ink of desperation
The ink of my heart
these words poured
Only to taint this paper
yellow, crisp, like the sand in the deserts
Deserts of the world,
Those regretted places of frigid heat
And here I stand, knee deep
On my knees
Crying to sky
Holding Lost words
That were always hard to find;
I wanted to say sorry, the ink once poured
I wanted to be back again
Back to ~then~ back to...
when?
I wanted to say we were at least friends
But by throwing away this hollow shell
This hollow tormented soul
You allowed her to see the truth of it all
The mirror of this wasteland.
And I draw my fingers across your sky
Willing the rain to fall.
Willing it to wash away the
Footprints I left In your sand
For my words on the matter are dead
and never needed to be heard
I don't want to burden you farther
I don't want to die In today
Yesterday Is faded,
and you have died with her...
I draw my finger over our graves, and sigh
out the cold air
at least this wasteland was once bright and glorious
Its own Disaster and Disdain
At least there we fit.. for an instant,
before you fell and threw me away..
Now it is tainted by night cold
and the earth has cracked, the sand
falling through
as If counting the time we will cross paths again...

Sorry.

Though it means nothing to you