Her voice quivers over penance,
Unnecessary apologies for things that aren’t her fault
And I just sit there, just sit there
Without a grin or a frown
Thinking and rethinking my own sincere offerings
'Cause she’s made a mess out of me
You can never apologize enough
For not quite caring enough
Even if it is her fault
I’m not really in the mood for modern, awkward romance
And I would have left sooner,
Only her bed is so warm
So I scratch my eyebrow with my thumb
And wait for that inevitable, wretched moment
When I have to look at her stained red eyes
She cries too damn much
And she’s fully prepared to claw out my eyes with her sharp sobs
I have been loved to death
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I really like the last line in this one.